Until the War is Won
by MercuryMan
Summary: AU. The new stock-boy at Sonny's Shop 'n Save is a bit of an enigma. Will he fit in with Customer Service Agent Maxie's 'in'crowd? Will he choose paper or plastic? Will there be a bloody apocalypse before the night-shift ends? Ensemble LuLu,JZ,Dillon,more
1. Prologue

Prologue

The young man entered the three-story brownstone apartment building with all the care and stealth that a burglar might employ, despite his status as a key-holding resident. He ascended the stairs of the abode that only his roommate's bloated trust fund allowed them to afford, the recent renovations to the old structure allowing his steps to remain quiet on surprisingly non-creaking narrow stairs. Not that his roommate and friend was likely to notice anything considering the loud noises emanating from the third floor and the rhythmic low thumping that vibrated the second story ceiling with enough force to rattle the hallway's light fixtures.

The young man paused as he entered his room, listening for a moment, his face expressionless. The sounds of rather athletic sexual escapades and voices filled with a primal throaty need filtered down from upstairs, muffled but easily discernable.

Thump…thump…thump…

"Yeah, that's right! You wanna ride the J-train baby?"

"Ooohhh yesss! Fuck me, Johnny! Come on!"

"It's on! Yeah! Yeah! Wait a second get your ankles up here… just…yeah!"

"Johnny, fuckin' bring it!"

"Oh I'm bringin' it! And a lot …more… where that came from. It's… game… time!"

"Yesssss! Ohhh FUCK yessss!"

Thump…thump…thump

And so it went on. Not exactly an intellectual discourse. From frustrating experience the young man knew it could, and probably would go on for hours. His friend's undeniable sexual prowess didn't affect the young man's opinion of his friend one way or the other. Some people, if you wanted to be a part of their world, you just had to accept certain things about them.

He shook his head once sharply to the right and stepped forward into his dark bedroom. He quickly filled a backpack and a duffel bag with items from his closet and dresser. Either the young man knew the contents of his room well enough to grab the items he wanted with no light to guide him, or he was simply guessing.

Soon he was finished and slung the backpack across his shoulders, hoisting the duffel bag with his left hand. He left his room and walked to the head of the stairs making the turn to step down them, but then he stopped. He slowly turned and regarded the door on the other end of the hall. A construction paper sign hung on the door that read in large spray-painted letters,

"~U CuM N Here ~ ~U FUCKING DIE~"

It was the one room in the building that Johnny had staked out for himself from day one. No one was allowed inside. The young man regarded the door for a few long moments before he finally moved again.

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.

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Johnny was having an okay night. Not brilliant, not too shitty either. Just okay. He was fucking the daughter of the Shop'n Pop owner from down on the corner. She was doing a decent job of keeping him in the moment, and he was fucking away like his life depended on it- and sometimes he thought it just might. She was Ecuadorian, and he thought that must be in Africa somewhere. He had hoped that they would know how to do it a little better there, but he was dealing with the letdown by thinking about the landlord's wife, her name was Lucy, wasn't it? In his fantasy she was alternately threatening to evict him and begging for his cock.

"I like older women, so sue me!" He snarled.

"What the fuck you say, Johnny?"

The shop owner's daughter was looking up at him now, pushing back the sweat drenched locks of hair that had fallen over her eyes. She had a stupid, annoying look on her face that seemed to accuse him of not remembering her name- which now that he thought about it, he didn't. She always seemed to have a stupid, annoying look on her face.

"_Why am I fucking her again?"_ he thought, and was pretty sure this time he didn't speak his thoughts out loud.

While he caught his breath and considered for a few seconds how to get the night back on track, Johnny glanced at the door where he thought he had heard something a few minutes ago.

There was a small multicolored square on the floor right in front of the crack of the door. Johnny realized it must have been slid under the door while he and his nameless friend had been busy. Making a few wet sounds he quickly untangled himself from the tanned mass of arms and legs, ignoring the girl's disappointed groan. Naked and sweaty, he stepped over to the door and with no embarrassment, bent over to retrieve the square.

It was a small stack of post-it notes.

"Some J-train!" the girl complained from the floor across the room.

The top post-it read, "Z."

Johnny recognized his roommate's hand writing- he was the only one that Johnny would let get away with calling him by his last initial. Johnny tore the first post-it off the stack and slapped it on the door.

The second post-it read, "I'm."

Johnny tore it off and slapped it hard next to the first one. He continued this process, forming a sentence composed of multi-colored squares on the door. He cursed under his breath the whole time. He seemed to have completely forgotten about his guest.

"Goddamnit, D! You crazy shit-fuck!"

In moments the post-it stack was depleted and Johnny took a step back to read the assembled result- jumbled, askew and randomly colored as it was.

"**Z I'm sorry Had to go ORDERS RECEIVED the Mission is ON Did not want to IN terrupt you CANNOT put You in further DAN ger BTW her name IS Lynne in case You forgot By the time you put this together I'll be long gone DO NOT FOLLOW took some things I'm sorry**"

There were three blank post-its and then the final one, "**brother**"

"_HE knows her name. Of course he would,"_ was Johnny's first thought. The next thoughts that flooded his mind were filled with alarm and concern for his friend. He responded by doing what he always did best. He sprang into action.

Johnny tore through the building, calling out for his roommate, searching frantically.

He quickly could see that there were no signs of life inside, and he burst through the front door and across the porch, taking the steps to the sidewalk and street two at a time.

He turned, looking in all directions for a sign of his friend, that he wasn't too late to catch him. The warm breeze dried the sweat against his taut skin and several passersby stopped to stare at the naked young man turning in the middle of the street.

They all hurried on, shaking their heads, not wanting to get involved.

Johnny walked back inside, dejected and angry, his pulse beginning to race in a way that sex had failed to produce. Lynne was waiting, her clothes draped around her.

"Johnny, what the hell is going on? You better not ignore me tonight or I might tell the cops it was you that put Miguel and Rodney in the hospital!"

Johnny responded by walking past her and up the stairs to his friend's bedroom. He turned on the light. Lynne followed.

"Those fuckers were making trouble for my friend. They deserved a lot more, and I don't give a shit who knows it!" Johnny finally replied.

"That weirdo?" Lynne's voice conveyed equal parts disdain and disbelief. "He gives me the creeps. Is he crazy or something?"

"He's NOT crazy!" Johnny spat through a clenched jaw.

Johnny looked around the room, focusing on the dresser. The mirror on the dresser was obscured by magazine covers and seemingly random newspaper headlines. He found a prescription bottle that was three quarters empty, and a plastic baggie taped to the backside of the mirror that held a large amount of matching pills.

"Fuck!" Johnny's brow was a gathering thundercloud, and he clenched his fists in frustration. He walked back into the hall and noticed that the door to his inner sanctum was ajar.

"Shit!" Johnny didn't know what an aneurysm felt like, but he knew it couldn't feel that great. He had seen his father's tormented face last year when he had one, and Johnny imagined his own face probably looked something like that now.

"Wait here!" he yelled back at Lynne before plunging into the forbidden room. Inside he saw that the closet had been left open and a large stack from his prodigious porn collection had been shifted to get at something underneath.

An okay night had turned to shit with a quickness.

Johnny walked back into the hall and before he could react, Lynne reached out and grabbed his still-stiff member in a tight and none-too-comfortable nailed grip.

"Johnny whatever your psycho roomie has gotten into, it can wait until tomorrow! I want the ride I was promised!"

Johnny's teeth began to grind. He glared at the girl and veins began to bulge on either side of his forehead. She noticed with alarm that one of his eyes began to drift and didn't track perfectly with the other. She released her grip and took a step back.

"One thing I can't take… you know what that is Laura?" Johnny's voice held the taint of up-state New York now. It got stronger when he was losing it, or it was time to put his game face on.

"Lynne," the girl corrected in a breathless squeak.

"I can't stand bitches, whether they be of the female or male persuasion, who know nothing about Loyalty and Friendship. My friend needs me. Get THE FUCK out!"

After the girl left, Johnny dressed quickly. His mind was preoccupied with what to do next, who to call in favors from, how to find his friend as quickly as possible.

He thought with dread about the pills and the 9-millimeter pistol that was now missing from the case in his closet.

"Took some things," the crazy post-it message had said.

"Yeah, well one thing you haven't been taking is your meds, that's for fucking sure, D. What are you doing?" Johnny spoke quietly to himself as his mind raced, hoping that somewhere out there his friend would feel his worry and come around. "What are you doing, Damian? Where have you gone, and without your Z, too? Don't do anything stupid, that's supposed to be my department. Goddamnit Damian! What the hell?"

Johnny Zacharra wiped a sleeve across his eyes and sniffed loudly once.

Damian Spinelli was off of his medication and armed. Johnny had to find him, and fast. Johnny wasn't the type to think about the future much, but now he couldn't shake the feeling that disaster was approaching, a dark wave that was going to pull his world under.

"**the Mission is ON"**


	2. Part One

Until the War is Won

Part I

Headlines and Magazine cover clippings stuck to Damian's mirror-

**Fatal** Shootout was **Drug** Related

"Police suspect a drug deal gone awry was the motivation for a shooting that left one man dead and two others injured…." The Port Charles Herald

"**Prescription Drug** Abuse and Addiction on the **Rise**," the Sentinel

"**The Soul** Mate Survey! **How** Compatible **Are You**?" Flirt

"DISASTER: Is the World on the Brink? **What Can We Do** About It?" Newsweek

"**Search** Continues **for** Missing **Girl**," The Port Charles Herald

"UFOs _Sighted _over Western **New York**! The Shocking Photographs and **Clues to** their Alien **Agenda**!" the National Inquisitor

"As Mercury ascends a **friend** may **need your protection**…." Horoscope, the Sentinel

"She Walked Out, How to **Get Her Back**!" Black Book

"The Biggest and Best New Assault Rifles for 2009: They make it easier than ever to **Kill Them All and Let God Sort 'Em Out**!" Hail of Bullets

"How Do I know when **it's Time to Leave **Him?" Relationship, the Magazine

"**Your Time Has Come**," Fashion Plate

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.

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Damian sat passively in an uncomfortable orange plastic chair. He faced Sonny Corinthos who sat on the other side of a cheap pressed wood desk littered with papers. Sonny was talking into an oversized 'old school' telephone all the while scratching his head through a greasy hair net. Damian waited patiently for Sonny to finish his call, his gaze shifting to the small black and white television set that Sonny kept turned on in the back of his office. Sonny's mumbled end of the conversation slowly receded and was replaced by the sounds of the television.

"Yeah, you know what? I'm thinking we just order a pizza. You know there's a Cubs game on tonight? No, well I dunno I guess I can live with anchovies. So listen, what are you… are you wearing? Yeah I know you're at work, so am I! Just interviewing another kid. What? No of course he can't hear me! So listen, I just wanna know a couple things, ya know, help me through the rest…."

"…ScanItAll works for you! Why pay for a security system that may work only part of the time and is susceptible to human error? Why go through the hassle of surveying your customers or spending countless hours in tedious inventory? ScanItAll does it all! Utilizing the latest in German Engineering and Laser technology secretly developed by the CIA, and thoroughly tested on humans through a volunteer program at a camp in Cuba, ScanItAll keeps track of everything your customers and employees do- when they come and go, what they buy, and even what they steal! Some even say it can read their minds! Ha, Ha! Sorry shoplifter that tin foil hat won't stop ScanItAll! You're BUSTED!"

Security Guard: 'Thanks, ScanItAll!' "Nothing and no one can get one over on the cold, compassionless, yet friendly and helpful laser eye of the ScanItAll system! Call your local ScanItAll representative today! After all, which would you really rather have- outdated and increasingly useless concepts like personal privacy, or total control and a fat bottom line?"

The commercial dialogue dropped in volume and increased in speed as a telephone number flashed across the screen. "In rare cases, some retinal and rectal hemorrhaging may occur with exposure, and the recently deceased may experience brief and violent instances of reanimation."

The commercial faded out to be replaced by a smug looking man in an expensive suit sitting in a plush office surrounded by impressive arrays of leather-bound law books_. _His hair was dark and thick with smudges of steely gray at the temples. The screen cut to a close up as he revealed perfect, blindingly white teeth in a smile that didn't touch his eyes.

"I'm Mac Scorpio, Attorney at Law. Have you been injured in an accident? Do you need someone to step up and take your side?"

The scene cut to a woman sitting in a hot tub wearing a revealing bikini top.

"I'm Sam, and I was injured in a freak shopping cart collision. The insurance company tried to say that I was faking, those bastards! I made one call, and Mac Scorpio got me total satisfaction! He's like a jackhammer, hammering away at injustice! I got the settlement I was entitled to and even had enough to finally get the breasts I've always wanted!" She laughed playfully and splashed water at the screen. "What, you thought these were real? Thanks Mac Scorpio!"

Now the television screen showed the image of the same man, decked out in fancy athletic wear on a tennis court, half crouched and poised to swing. He expertly whacked a tennis ball directly at the camera. Even on the small black and white screen it was obvious that his arms and legs had a dark and even skin tone indicative of a perfect tan. "You see! Justice got served! Don't get screwed over! My motto is 'everyone gets what they deserve! One call does it…."

"Hey kid, uh Damian, right? Damian Spinelli."

Damian snapped his attention back towards the man behind the messy desk. The phone had been returned to its cradle and Sonny was looking over the three sheets of paper that comprised Damian's work application.

"Yes sir."

Sonny's eyes lazily wandered back and forth from the papers to Damian. He rubbed the side of his face absently. The black hairnet had slipped down in the middle of his forehead, giving him an absurdly exaggerated widow's peak. "Tell ya what, it looks like you got no experience workin' in a grocery store or warehouse whatsoever. Why do you wanna work here, at Sonny's, at _my _Shop 'n' Save?"

Damian's face was neutral, expressionless. His lank brown hair hung down messily over his unblinking green eyes. His tone was even and his words precise. "I think what I'm looking for is here. Somewhere."

"Really? Uh, I mean I guess that's a good attitude to have. You know, it's good to have motivated employees who want a future with the company…and…stuff." Sonny chuckled softly. "Most people think it's a dead end job, ya know? But hey, that's bullshit. We're all about respect here. Everybody respects me, cause I'm the owner. Everyone has to know which side of their bread is buttered."

He looked at the application in front of him intently as if it might hold some secret, but Damian noticed that his eyes didn't seem to focus on or follow any of the print.

"Course I never really knew what the fuck that means. I like to butter both sides of my bread, ya know? A little garlic salt, toast it on up…."

Damian regarded him with a passive watchfulness.

"You like the girls, Damian?"

Damian leaned back in the horridly orange and uncomfortable plastic chair.

"Cause I got lots of pretty little girls workin' here, but they are to be treated properly. You don't dip your stick in the company oil. Ya got me? I don't need any sexual garnishment accusations, lawsuits and so forth. Okay? Understand?"

Damian didn't really, but more importantly he wasn't much interested either. He decided to continue sitting there, unresponsive.

"Right, ok." Sonny flexed his shoulders and shuffled the papers as if to indicate the matter was settled and he was moving on. "I see you got a little gap in your work history here. What were you dropped out and zoned in… doing the reefer, smoking some wacky tobacky?"

Damian just looked at Sonny, his face as blank as a stone wall.

"Sucking on the ol' bong? Was it 4:20 all day everyday? Maybe you were popping pills, trippin', riding the snake, doing the junkie dance? I bet you were baked, rolled, smoked and toked, huh?"

"No sir. I was in an institution."

Sonny flicked a knuckle under his chin a few times. "You mean rehab? I'm beginning to get a clear picture here now."

"No, I mean an institution."

"Rehab," Sonny continued as if Damian hadn't spoken, "is good. It means you had the guts to admit you had a problem and tried to deal with it. See I know 'cause I've done a few little stints myself. Of course it was for an addiction of a more sexual nature and once there was a plea bargain involved."

Sonny's gaze wandered off, he seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. Suddenly he cleared his throat. "What was I saying? Look, I don't judge you for your problems with drugs ok? Just don't do any of that here, in my establishment. This is a family place… did I mention there are lots of young girls… women here?"

Damian scraped at something stuck under his left index fingernail.

"Ok look, I tell you what, you're hired. You can go find Cassius; he's probably in the stock room, though come to think of it I haven't seen him for a while. Anyway, he'll train you and show you the ropes. The other stockers can tell you all about our safety procedures. Safety is, you know, a big deal to us. We've gone two, maybe three weeks without an accident, and I'm proud of that safety record, so let's not fuck that up ok?"

"You can check your hours on the schedule, it's posted up in the break room, or it will be when I get around to making it. I'm a couple of days, weeks behind. Oh and ummm…" he glanced back at the papers, "Damian… you're not gonna bring any banned substances or weapons into the work place right?"

Damian stood. He looked Sonny directly in the eye.

"Only my gun… sir."

Sonny looked back for a long moment and then grinned and chuckled in a way that almost suggested such action was painfully unnatural for him.

"That's… that's funny. That's a good one. I think I'm gonna like you kid!"

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After a lengthy search Damian found Cassius behind the building, leaning against the wall, deep in thought, drawing on a fat joint. Cassius was a good-looking young black man whose clothes were immaculate under his stocker's apron.

After a couple of minutes Cassius noticed Damian standing next to him.

"Rut roh! What's up Shaggy?" Cassius smiled and extended the joint toward the quiet young man. Damian held up a hand to signal "no thanks."

"What, you never watch Scooby Doo? I was just taking a little break and thinking about what kind of world we live in where the Black Ranger on Mighty Morphin Power Rangers is actually a black dude. Were they trying to be ironic, or just stupid? All right, you aren't out here to smoke, so what's goin' on?"

"Sonny hired me."

"He did huh? You like the railroad, Shaggy?"

"It's Damian."

"Maybe the Subway? Cause let me tell you, you have hit the gravy train!"

Stashing the remaining roach, Cassius took Damian back inside to the stock room, where Damian assumed he would begin his training, but after exchanging a couple of jokes with passing stockers, Cassius led him away to a room filled with a couple of tables, vending machines, a discolored refrigerator and a battered microwave.

"This is the most important room here at Sonny's Shop 'n Save, or maybe a close second to the bathroom." Cassius waved his arms expansively and flopped into a chair.

Damian took an educated guess. "The break room?"

"That's the one! Hey check it out, hotness at your six!"

Two blond girls entered the break room talking urgently.

"So I told her she needed to stop shopping at Goodwill, and I know a dog groomer who could do a better job with her hair!" The girls laughed. They walked to the fridge and retrieved a few items. The shorter girl, her hair cut in a fashionable bob, deliberately chose a seat as far from Cassius and Damian as she could manage and opened a small Tupperware container filled with what appeared to be bean sprouts.

The other girl, who sported long flowing blond locks, took a hamburger out of a bag and began warming it up in the microwave.

"And how can she accuse me of trying to steal her man?" the shorter blond continued. "Everyone knows they ended it last week!"

"Hello ladies!" Cassius favored them with a casual wave.

"Hi," replied the taller girl without much enthusiasm.

Bean sprout girl arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and her brilliant blue eyes flashed. "Hello Cassius, is that your new cologne I smell? Ode de Ganja?" She shook her head dismissively and picked at her sprouts in apparent annoyance.

"Lulu, Maxie this is our newest employee, Damian. Damian this is our customer service department aka Lulu and Maxie."

"Excitement!" muttered Maxie under her breath.

LuLu looked over and met Damian's gaze for a moment. He nodded slightly toward the girl. She quickly looked away and retrieved her burger. She took a seat across from the elfin Maxie.

"Customer service is also the complaints department, so if you got something to bitch about, you might just as well put it in your blog or something, cause these girls aren't having any of it." Cassius grinned.

"Very funny _Clashus_! Could that shirt match the rest of your outfit less?" Maxie rolled her eyes and vengefully stabbed some bean sprouts.

She seemed to suddenly notice Lulu's burger. "Um LuLu, gross! They say you are what you eat. Can anybody say cow?" Maxie uttered a gleeful little laugh at her own joke.

LuLu looked at the burger and bit her lip. Her head sank a little.

Damian took a second look at the girls. They were both young and very attractive. LuLu had a slim appealing build and was not overweight by any definition.

Maxie was almost painfully thin, her sleeves hung loosely on her tiny arms, but she appeared vibrant and her cheeks weren't hollow.

"What does that make someone who eats nothing?" Damian asked quietly.

Cassius's eyes opened wide in shock and a slow grin spread across his face as he looked back and forth between Damian and Maxie.

Maxie's bright blond hair bounced as her head whipped around and she fixed Damian with a look so disdainful that it passed into real hatred for a moment before she collected herself. "Ew! It talks!" She looked back at LuLu, her pale features now set in simple imperious superiority. "LuLu _it talked_ to me."

LuLu tried to change the subject. "_Anyway_ what were we talking about before Maximus Interruptus butted in?"

Maxie eyed her companion skeptically. "LuLu, you can be such a dork!"

LuLu accepted this reprimand silently.

"I don't know what we were talking about now, but between your grease burger and the aroma of the coma I've lost my appetite. I think I'm getting zits just sitting too close to all this junk food. Let's get out of here."

Damian noted that LuLu immediately sprang up and disposed of the offending burger. Maxie didn't wait for her, but with the air of someone who knew she would be followed, stalked out of the break room. LuLu cleaned up Maxie's Tupperware and placed it back in the fridge. She turned and hurried to follow her friend when she bumped lightly into a newcomer entering the room.

The young man blushed and took a step back. He reached out with one hand to steady LuLu, but seemed to think better of the gesture and pulled it back. "Hello, hey, sorry!" He sputtered.

"Yeah, hi, don't worry about it. Probably my fault," LuLu replied while smoothing down her clothes. They both tried to step out of the others way only to block each others path again.

"Oops, um hi!" said the young man again, turning a shade of red that didn't seem humanly possible.

"Oh my god! Hello already!" LuLu pushed past him and left the room.

The young man turned and looked wistfully after the retreating figure.

Cassius was laughing hard with one hand to his stomach. "Ohhh…ouch! Real slick Dillon. I think I might start calling you the Operator!"

Dillon looked down and grinned sheepishly. He ran a hand through his shoulder length unkempt blond hair. "Yeah, right, how may I direct your call?" He laughed a little, still embarrassed. He looked over at Damian. "Hey man, I'm Dillon, um, Ashton." Dillon quickly grabbed a lunch sack from the fridge and an Orange Slice from one of the vending machines. "I'm a price-changer here. You're new?"

Damian nodded. "No one has exactly explained to me yet what it is I do."

Dillon sat and took a snack out of the bag. "Um, well, I'm sure they'll get around to it," he offered vaguely. "So, um, you are welcome in our domain Damian." A shy grin flashed across his angular face.

It occurred to Damian that the kid wasn't bad looking, he just wore rumpled baggy clothes and his hair had never met a comb that it liked. To top it off he was extremely awkward, but now that it was just guys in the room he seemed to relax a little.

"Thanks."

Cassius brushed a few crumbs from his apron and looked at Damian. "Look, you want to know the story of Sonny's Shop 'n Save, this existential, paradoxical hell in which we find ourselves like the souls of ancient Greek heroes wandering Hades aimlessly filling and refilling shelves of canned goods and crappy Chinese products, and you wish to know your place in this sick, sad little universe?"

"Wow that was… poetic!" A few crumbs escaped the side of Dillon's mouth.

"Knowledge _is_ power," Damian offered cryptically.

"Right, I'll take that as a yes. Here's the deal. People in this neighborhood generally aren't rolling in the Benjamins, so every Sunday they get their paper and they clip their little coupons. _Then _they pack the screaming brats into the minivan or the eco-friendly hybrid SUV, and they roll on down to the Shop 'n Save where they wander the aisles like 'Mid-Life Crisis of the Living Dead' and pick up their little groceries and products, seventy five percent of which they do not need- and half of that is poisoning and killing them slowly as they stumble on their sad little hamster wheel lives. Our job is to make sure that all the crap and shit that they don't need is sitting nice and pretty on the shelves when they get here. We also have to answer about a hundred stupid questions a day like 'uh excuse me person wearin' a giant-ass Shop 'n Save apron, do you work here?' And, 'Hey where's the French Fried Onions?' While they are standing two feet from the three rows of French Fried Onions cans, right on eye level, and right next to an eight foot sign that says 'get your fuckin' French Fried Onions right here with a giant-ass arrow pointed right to the three rows of cans at eye level two feet from them."

Dillon laughed and choked a bit on his snack. He took a swig of Orange Slice that seemed to help.

"Sounds great," Damian intoned with a straight face.

"Oh it is, and all of this is happening with less and less frequency because the folks 'round here, in their never-ending quests for good deals on shit they do not need, have been flocking more and more to Quartermania down the street. The discount store where they like to say everything's a quarter, but everyone knows that's bullshit, you can't sell nothin' for a quarter; but people don't complain because the canned goods and the Chinese crap is still cheaper there than it is here."

Dillon suddenly looked wary. "Hey I should get back to it. Those prices won't change themselves!" He threw away a wrapper and the empty can of soda. "See you guys. It was nice meeting you Damian, if there is ever anything I can do to help you here, just, you know, ask."

Damian's eyes narrowed, as he seemed to think that over. "Right. I'll remember that."

Dillon hesitated a moment, almost as if he wanted to take the offer back, but then he shuffled out of the room.

"Mmm, mm. Boy desperately needs to get laid!" Cassius slapped Damian on the shoulder as he rose from his chair. "Come on Mister Personality, we got things to do."

Damian stood and followed the lanky stocker. "Does my training start now?"

"I'd say it's more like you are about to get schooled. How's your jump shot?"

An image rose in Damian's mind of jumping through the air in a dark building, firing his pistol over and over as shadowy, twisted shapes screamed and went down. "Very accurate, actually."

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"Am I on the clock?" Damian bounced the basketball across the rutted pavement behind Sonny's Shop 'n Save. A pole with a basketball _net _was a few feet away and there was a chalk outline of half of a basketball court on the asphalt.

"Have you seen a clock around here?" Cassius took off his apron and draped it carefully on the lid of a nearby dumpster. "We've been writing in our time cards for a while now. There is a time-clock, but me and a couple of others make sure that it pretty much stays in a continual non-functioning state!"

"Kinda like you, huh Cassius?" The newcomer's voice had a bit of a southern drawl. He and another young man, both dressed in Shop 'n Save attire approached from an open doorway.

Cassius laughed. "Aw Hayes, hate the game, not the playah!"

"Logan Hayes." The young man introduced himself to Damian with a short confident nod. He had dirty-blond hair worn nearly in a crew cut. He was tall, lean, and athletic; it was obvious he was muscular under his apron and clothes.

"Damian Spinelli." Damian returned the introduction with a slight raise of his chin.

"How sweet!" Logan's companion spat sarcastically. "If you girls are through making nice why don't we play a little two on two?"

Cassius' grin looked a little forced. "I'm okay with that Diego. What do you say Damian?"

Damian regarded the dark haired young man next to Logan, and felt a tightening in his stomach. His instincts were telling him there was something 'off' about Diego. He looked normal enough-wavy hair and a strong chin, well built, but his eyes were cold and the gaze he turned on Cassius and Damian was full of scorn. "I'm in."

Logan looked Damian over, as if sizing him up. His expression seemed to convey that he wasn't too impressed with what he saw. "I don't know, doesn't seem like much of a fair match up. Diego why don't you team with Cassius?"

Diego was shaking his head emphatically. "Fuck fair! This is survival of the fittest, bitches!"

Cassius seemed to agree. "Well, Diego it's obvious you are the fittest _bitch_ out here."

Logan covered his mouth to hide his smile at this comment. He placed his other hand on Diego to restrain him since he seemed to be considering stepping in close to Cassius.

"But it's all right," Cassius continued. "You guys are gonna need all the help you can get to compete with all my fine blackness and the white shadow over here! Damian here was All-State in high school until he tweaked a knee, right Damian?"

"No," Damian answered, but no one seemed to be listening to him.

"Pre-school maybe!" Diego laughed. "Let's do this, and why don't we make things interesting? Whoever loses has to choose one from their team to get on the store intercom and tell LuLu Spencer that you love her."

"Is that it?" Cassius took the ball from Damian and threw it hard into Diego's chest. Diego reacted quickly and caught it with a grunt. "Cause I'll do that right now! That girl's fine!"

Logan tried to get things back into focus. "Come on guys. It's me and Diego, and Cassius and…."

"Damian."

"Yeah. So first to twenty, new guy can shoot for first possession." Diego seemed ready to protest but Logan shot him a look that said, "stow it!" Logan and Diego walked a few feet away and began taking off their aprons and stretching.

Cassius took Damian aside, and the shadow of the basketball goal fell over them. "Ok Damian, Logan is a real good athlete so I'll stay on him and try to trip him up a little. Diego's in good shape, but he's from Portugal or some shit. I think they just play baseball and soccer where he's from."

"What's this got to do with being a stocker?" Damian asked steadily.

"Everything! You let guys walk on you and you won't be at the bottom of the totem pole 'round here, you'll be under it!"

"Cassius, I don't know if it matters, but I don't think I've ever played basketball before," Damian explained in a matter-of-fact tone.

"WHAT! Oh Shaggy, you're killin' me! You don't _think_? You don't _think_?"

Damian shook his head. "I don't think so. I remember the rules and the idea, but I'm not sure if I've ever even seen a real game."

"Oh sweet baby Jesus, how do this white boy not know? Shaggy you've got to be the whitest white man I've ever seen. I bet you never danced either, huh?"

"No."

"You see? Lord this boy is whiter than liquid paper!" Cassius threw up his hands in exasperation. "Ok well, we work with what we've got, but we could sure use a miracle. When the game starts you just keep passing the ball to me, understand? Just throw it to me and then run away and maybe Diego will stay on you and that'll open up the lane. Ok this is gonna be ugly, like the Alamo or some shit, but it's too late to back down." Cassius handed Damian the basketball. "Go on. Go back to that line. Throw it at the hoop. Up there with the net." Cassius waved one hand in the direction of the goal.

Damian took the ball and walked over to the line Cassius had indicated. Diego and Logan stopped their preparations to watch. Damian eyed the goal. He hefted the ball in one hand and launched it like a missile in a direct line. It struck the outside rim of the goal with a loud clang and shot away, leaving the rim vibrating for several seconds. Damian's eyes narrowed. "I miscalculated the trajectory," he said softly under his breath.

Logan and Diego exchanged incredulous looks, and then Diego burst out laughing so hard that he almost fell to the pavement. Logan smirked, but his expression became serious as he approached a dejected Cassius who had retrieved the ball. "I think that's ours."

"I _know_ I'm not high enough to deal with this," Cassius muttered.

The game began and Logan, after checking the ball with Cassius, immediately drove to the hoop and executed a perfect lay up while Cassius lagged a step behind. Diego whooped and immediately began trash talking.

On their first possession, Cassius stepped back and fired a three that slashed through the goal with a satisfying swish. Cassisus started to hum and waggled his head. "Mmmm brown sugah! How come you taste soooo gooood!"

Diego got the ball and took Damian to the hole, he sprang into the air and shocked everyone with a vicious dunk that carried through the hoop and bounced off of Damian's head. "Oh no!" He exclaimed in mock concern. "What happened All-State? What happened?"

As they retreated to the backcourt Cassius muttered darkly, "Just my luck, that boy's been drinkin' his Gatorade and eatin' his Wheaties too!"

Diego overheard the last part of Cassius' utterance. "I ate your mom's Wheaties this morning!"

As the game continued Damian calmed his thoughts, and began to systematically call up every memory he could muster concerning basketball rules and strategy. He also carefully observed the other players, their actions and movements. As he had been instructed, Damian made sure that Cassius always had the ball, but it didn't take long for Diego and Logan to figure out that Damian wasn't going to shoot. They began concentrating their efforts on Cassius, who was having a hard time getting off a shot with both opposing players on his heels.

Logan played the game with methodical precision. He was careful with the ball, never leaving it exposed for a steal. When it was advantageous, he passed the ball to Diego. He never took a shot unless he was open or felt he had a good look.

When Diego had the ball, he invariably drove to the basket. His ball handling was sloppy, and he arrogantly tried a lot of fancy dribbling and turned the ball over often. At first he went for spectacular dunks, but he quickly tired and began missing them, sending the ball ricocheting off the rim and out of bounds. He began to settle for short jump shots, but Damian had been studying his opponent and had quick, tireless feet. He stayed in front of his man, not giving Diego a good look at the basket. Diego always took the shot anyway, and this resulted in a lot of misses. Logan and Cassius were left to battle for the rebounds, and they were just about splitting them. After each of his misses Diego would curse bitterly whether his teammate recovered the rebound or not.

The game continued for several minutes and the score was 14 to 5 in favor of Logan and Diego. Cassius called a quick time out and both sets of teammates withdrew to opposite sides of the chalk court.

Logan wiped his brow with the back of a perfectly toned arm even though he wasn't really sweating. "Hey Diego, you know you could pass the ball once in a while when you don't have a look. Cassius is just leaving me and setting up for a rebound cause he knows you won't pass the ball to me even when you're covered."

"We don't need to pass," Diego sneered while he tried to catch his breath. "We're killin' these chumps. And that scrawny fuck couldn't cover me with a blanket!"

Logan frowned but didn't bother to express his obvious disagreement.

"Hey ho, remember the Alamo… Damn Shaggy, I'm getting tired. I used to be able to catch my breath a lot faster." Cassius bent over and rested his wrists on his knees.

"Excessive smoking can lead to diminished lung capacity," Damian commented almost absently.

"Please don't remind me that I could be catching a buzz right now!"

"Cassius, I've been watching, and I think I can score if you pass me the ball. Diego is leaving me wide open."

"Yeah he doesn't believe you can do it so he's committing to the double team every time."

Damian nodded calmly. "I can do it."

"You can? Shaggy?"

"It's simple kinematics."

"It's _what_?" Cassius rubbed his eyes.

"Physics- displacement, velocity, acceleration… If there are several forces acting on a point, you must find the vector sum of the forces. It is the net force that compels the mass to undergo acceleration. Then there are 'time' versus 'displacement' issues to consider…."

Cassius shook his head as if to ward off a bad dream. "What the fuck?"

"Cassius, they are wearing you down. A new strategy is in order."

Mumbling incoherently under his breath, and with a blank hopeless stare, Cassius straightened and walked back onto the court. The others joined him and Damian noticed that a small crowd had gathered. The two blond girls he had met in the break room earlier had been joined by three other girls, and they were all talking excitedly among themselves while simultaneously trying to appear less interested in the game than they actually were. It was apparent from their prolonged glances and giggling which team they were rooting for.

Dillon Ashton was also watching from a safe distance, shifting his feet uncomfortably whenever the girls would laugh.

A few other employees and even some customers had gathered to watch the slaughter. The back lot bordered a neighborhood street, and as Damian lined up across from Diego to check the ball, he noticed a girl dressed all in black watching intently from the sidewalk. Their eyes met across the distance for an instant, and for that moment Damian forgot the game as his senses elevated to a state of high alert. The girl quickly placed dark sunglasses across her eyes, and the spell was broken.

Damian checked the ball and quickly passed it off to Cassius. Diego immediately headed over for the double-team, and Damian sprinted, unhindered toward the basket. Cassius got off a perfect pass between the two young defenders and the ball bounced on an ideal course to meet Damian two steps from the goal. The ball settled into Damian's hand perfectly in stride, and he lifted it in both hands as he jumped lightly toward the basket.

He could hear Diego cursing as he rose, his body and the ball becoming one in a graceful arc born out by the numerous equations running through his head. He released the ball, already envisioning it's smooth journey off of the backboard and down through the basket and net.

The ball bounced off of the backboard, circled the rim and shot away. Diego raced back and recovered the rebound, laughing as he taunted Damian.

The group of girls cheered Diego. Dillon clenched his fists without realizing it. Unmoving, the girl in black watched from the sidewalk.

Damian hurried to get back on defense as Diego retreated behind the three-point line. He could hear Cassius muttering, "whitest… white…boy…ever!"

Diego glanced at the assembled audience. Logan slipped past Cassius, who seemed flat-footed and out of the game. Diego could pass the ball to Logan for an easy score, but Damian knew that he wasn't going to do that. He knew Diego wanted to show off. _'Know your enemy,'_ he thought.

Diego began to drive in for the score, and Damian knew exactly where he was going. He had made the same move over and over again in the game already. Damian beat Diego to the spot and set his feet. Instead of passing or pulling up for the shot, Diego lowered his shoulder and smashed into Damian sending him reeling back. Damian tucked himself into a controlled roll and regained his feet in time to see Diego jump up and dunk the ball.

The group of girls erupted into an ecstatic cheer, their pretense of disinterest abandoned.

"Sixteen to five! Oh yeah!" Diego gloated as he walked past Damian without showing the slightest interest in any injury he may have caused with the reckless collision.

"Hold up now," Cassius complained, "that was a charge all the way. Shaggy got there first! That's a foul!"

Diego spat on the pavement. "No blood, no foul. Suck it up Cassius!"

Logan looked distressed. "I didn't see it."

Diego shouted, "It's done, I scored! It is what it is!"

"According to the letter of the rules," Damian stated dispassionately, "A charge is committed when an offensive player illegally contacts a defensive player who has established position or is stationary. It was a charge. But if you two can live with the amendment of 'no blood, no foul,' then so can we."

Cassius groaned, but that seemed to settle the matter.

Damian spoke quietly in a confident tone to Cassius as they walked slowly up the court. "Cassius, I think I have this figured out. We need a turnover. If you can get us one steal, I think I can hit the basket now."

Cassius groaned in disbelief. "Dude, are you crazy?"

Damian's reply was simple. "Yes."

"Damian, it's sixteen to five! Sixteeeeen to five!"

"Cassius, it's the first one to twenty." Damian's cool gaze locked onto his teammates.

Cassius walked over to Logan muttering the whole while. "He's crazy, I'm crazy. We're all crazy. Check."

Logan took the ball in and tried to shake his defender, but Cassius seemed to have caught a second wind and cut him off. Logan looked for Diego and shook his head in annoyance when he saw his teammate with his back to the action, trying to talk with the group of girls.

In that instant Cassius lunged, fully committing his body to a defensive move for the first time in the game. He tipped the ball away from Logan, and it bounced directly over to Damian where he stood behind the three-point line. Damian took a moment to rotate the ball in his hands, and then in one continuous, fluid motion, he shot the ball. A couple of seconds later came the 'chuck' sound as the ball hit the bottom of the net.

"Yes," said Dillon, under his breath.

"Sixteen, eight," Damian said evenly. "Our ball."

The group of girls fell into a shocked silence, and Diego whirled around to see Logan glaring angrily at him. "What? What happened?"

"Thank you Lord!" said Cassius.

The game turned at that point. Logan and Diego couldn't seem to get on the same page and began to bicker. Damian hounded Diego, who still refused to pass, stealing the ball from him again and again. Cassius was suddenly confident and couldn't miss. Damian began hitting lay ups, and he easily blew past Diego who had spent most of his energy on flashy moves early in the game.

Cassius and Damian went on a run while Logan got more and more angry with his teammate who was now sulking. In minutes they had pulled ahead and the score was 18-16. It was game point.

The crowd had grown much larger.

Maxie was checking her text messages. "LuLu I can't follow this game, it's boring. What's going on?"

LuLu sneered while Maxie's attention was on her phone. "I think the pot-head losers are beating the jocks." She hid her smile when Maxie glanced up.

"That can't be right, LuLu. You must have it wrong."

Cassius grinned at a fuming Logan as he dribbled the ball in.

Logan glanced around at the people watching and felt his injured pride swell. "This is ridiculous!" He lunged forward and stole the ball from Cassius, took it behind the line and then drove through both Cassius and Damian who bounced off of him like pinballs. With a snarl, refusing to be denied, he jumped up and put the ball in the basket. "Yes!" He pumped his fist. He grinned as he looked over at the assembled group of girls, but his smile quickly faded when he saw that Maxie wasn't paying any attention to the game.

"It's eighteen all," said LuLu her voice tinged with excitement.

"Mmm, hmmm," droned Maxie as she texted someone.

Logan took the ball behind the line. Cassius and Damian looked at him warily.

"It's my turn to bring the ball in." Diego gestured for Logan to hand the ball over.

Logan relinquished the ball with a sigh and a shake of his head. "For crying out loud, Diego. Friggin' pass the ball this time if you don't have a good look!"

"Logan, I don't owe you shit. I've carried your sorry ass for this whole game, so go bitch to someone who cares." Any charm Diego had possessed was long gone. His eyes darted wildly. Sweat had drenched through his clothes and left his hair a limp tangled mass framing the flushed skin of his face.

Logan actually laughed as he walked over to the side of the court and folded his arms. "All right then. Bring it on home stud! I'll just stay out of your way. I wouldn't want to drag you down."

Diego ran onto the court, dribbling toward his favorite spot. Cassius made a dive for the ball but missed and crashed to the pavement. Diego pressed on and Damian was waiting for him. Again, instead of pulling up for the shot Diego lowered his shoulder to brutally knock Damian out of the way, but this time there was no feeling of impact. Damian Spinelli seemed to melt in front of him, and without the resistance he had expected to encounter Diego lost all sense of balance. He felt hands and limbs against him, directing his motion, using his strength and momentum against him. He sailed through the air and collided violently with the ground. All the breath was knocked out of him. He turned his head as he struggled to find air, and could only watch as Damian walked over to the basketball, picked it up and almost casually banked it off of the backboard and into the basket.

"Twenty, eighteen," Damian's soft voice was heard by everyone in the stunned silence of the lot. "Good game."

Cassius began to laugh as he rolled on the asphalt.

Dillon hopped up and down clapping, until he realized people might notice him. He stuck his hands in his pockets and smiling, disappeared back into the building.

Maxie shut her cell phone. "This isn't any fun," she declared and promptly turned on her heel and stalked into Sonny's Shop 'n Save. Most of the girls followed her. For once LuLu lagged behind, her eyes on the new employee who stood motionless, his face an expressionless mask. _'What did he just do?'_

Logan walked over and helped Cassius up. "Good game."

Damian turned and looked at the distant sidewalk, but it was now empty. The girl in black was gone.

Diego struggled to his feet as the crowd began to disperse. "Wait, that was a take down! That was a foul! A foul!"

"I didn't see it," said Logan with a smirk.

Cassius looked Diego over. "No blood, no foul."

"But it was a foul!" Diego whined as he stretched his hands out looking for an ally. "Logan?"

"Go bitch to someone who cares," Logan said as he left the chalk and asphalt court. Cassius followed him, chuckling.

Diego turned to Damian, his eyes barely containing a smoldering hate. "That wasn't basketball. That was a fucking take down!"

Damian stepped in close to Diego and matched his fiery glare with green eyes that had suddenly gone as cold as ice. "It is what it is," he said quietly.

Diego looked down, turned and stormed away.

Inside Cassius tied the back of Logan's apron. "Back to work huh?" Logan asked.

"Yeah right." Cassius tone belied his words. "What'd you think of the new guy, Texas?"

"Who, uh Derek?" Logan was running a comb through his short hair.

"Damian," Cassius corrected him, snickering.

"Yeah, whatever. He got in a couple of good shots. I don't know, he seems harmless enough."

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**Two AM, Somewhere across town.**

The sign outside the building read, 'Trevor's Garage- Home of the Last Honest Mechanic.'

Johnny liked blow torches. The unfortunate man in the mechanics jumpsuit didn't seem to care much for the one Johnny was holding way too close to his face for safety regulations. The fact that Johnny had the man pinned against a hydraulic lift meant that there was little he could do to express his dislike of their current arrangement, except sweat and beg. He had been doing both in prodigious amounts for the last few minutes, but Johnny remained unmoved.

"Ok it's time to cut the shit Trevor! I talked to some people who were there at the shooting last week. You know the one where some low life dealers got aced. They tell me that two of _your_ employees were seen double timing it out of there as the bullets were flying. Now I come to your garage and find you and the same boys putting in an all nighter on some junkers."

He pressed down with his elbow into the man's windpipe to make sure he had his full attention. Trevor's couldn't tear his gaze from the blue flame dancing in front of his face. "You're using this garage as part of a drug operation Trev." It wasn't a question.

"Johnny! Drugs? What?" Trevor managed to half speak, half gurgle. A curl of smoke wafted up from his hair.

"Don't you deny it! Don't you fuckin' deny it!" Johnny pressed in on the man all the harder. "My father's money kept this garage going when you were ready to give up and close the doors, and _this_ is how you repay him? He would shit his sick bed if he knew you were using this place to bring drugs into the neighborhood he loves!"

"Johnny please!" Trevor wailed. In desperation he had caught a breath from somewhere. "My 401k took a dump this last year. An old man's got to put some coin aside from somewhere to see to his family!"

"Fuck you, and fuck your family!" Johnny snarled. "You PIECE of SHIT!" In his rage he brought the blow torch closer to Trevor's face. A low mewling sound emanated from the pinned man.

Two men in mechanics coveralls ran into the garage and stopped cold when they saw the tableau before them.

"Johnny for crissakes, calm down!" One of them called.

Johnny didn't spare them a glance. "Mind your fucking business!"

"Hey! We're calling the cops if you don't let him go!" The other newcomer yelled.

"Call 'em!" Johnny laughed maniacally. "I'm sure they'd love to hear this sob story!" Johnny collected himself and pulled the torch back several inches. Trevor sighed in relief, and pooled sweat blew from between his lips.

"Listen up Trev. Here's the deal, and it's the only one you get from me. My friend's gone missing. I need to find him, and I don't have time to fuck around with this shit. Now he left behind all this stuff, newspaper clippings, notes, about that shooting last week. The one your boys here were involved in. You assholes know the one," he called over his shoulder. "It's like he was obsessed, or maybe he witnessed something that fucked him up. Was he there? Is Damian hiding from your guys? Is he running for his life because he saw something? You tell me what I need to know, and I'll forget all about your garage and your bullshit operation, just like it doesn't exist." Johnny began to inch the torch closer again, and Trevor squirmed helplessly. "What happened? Where's Damian? I swear to God, if you've done _anything_ to him!"

"He was there," one of the men called out.

"What?" Johnny froze. Trevor could only gape at the torch poised over his face and wait.

The two mechanics exchanged glances and one shrugged. "Your roommate was there, but he didn't _witness_ shit. More like perpetrated. He was the shooter, Johnny."

Johnny felt a rush of cold spread from his gut and through his limbs. It felt like the world wrenched on its axis under his feet. "Bullshit!" he exclaimed through gritted teeth. "Damian's got a heart, he wouldn't hurt nobody! If you're lying to me…."

"He's not lying," the second mechanic chimed in. "And your friend wasn't out to hurt anyone, he was shooting to kill. He didn't try to jack product or cash. He was there for blood. The dude is crazy!"

"He's not crazy," Johnny growled.

"It was like he declared war on our operation, and he wasn't taking prisoners," the first mechanic added. "We don't know where he is now Johnny, but he started this. If we see him again…."

Johnny leaned back and Trevor slumped down from the lift. He grabbed the older man's coveralls with one hand and flung him in the direction of his two lackeys. They ran to Trevor's side, but choking and gasping, he shoved them away angrily. "You useless motherfuckers! _Now_ you help?"

Johnny took the torch and walked over next to a pallet loaded down with canisters of compressed air. He grabbed some greasy rags and a batch of papers from a nearby bench and threw them onto the pallet. He then casually tossed the lit blow torch onto the pile. The rags and papers immediately burst into flames and began to burn down onto the canisters.

"Johnny!" Trevor struggled to his feet. He looked even more stunned and alarmed than he had earlier. "You promised! You said you'd forget all about my operation!"

Johnny turned and looked at Trevor as the flames shot several feet into the air behind him. He smiled. "Just like it didn't exist… and now it won't." He nodded in the direction of the door behind Trevor. "Your boys have the right idea. Better run Trev."

Trevor whirled and saw that his minions had already fled. He didn't need any more prompting- arms and legs pumping, he hightailed it out of there, Johnny's laughter dogging his heels.

Johnny turned back to the greedy flames and he spread his arms as if to embrace the fire. _'So much heat. Why do I feel so cold?'_

The flames spread to the ceiling, to the nearby workbenches; they arced and danced like demons at play. They licked the sign on the wall- WARNING contents HIGHLY FLAMMABLE DANGER! Johnny knew that hidden somewhere in the garage and in the panels of the various cars were drugs- cocaine, heroin, amphetamines; it hardly mattered. They were materials just as dangerous, just as deadly, but they didn't come with a warning sign. They would burn just like the rest.

"What have you gotten yourself into, D?" Johnny began to back toward an exit, but he hesitated, entranced by the sight of the spreading conflagration. Smoke billowed everywhere, making it hard to see, hard to breathe. "Are you at war, Damian? Then I guess _we're_ at war. I'm in, whether you wanted it that way or not. I promised Miriam that I would protect you. That's what I'm gonna do. No matter what. Don't worry D, I'm gonna find you."

Trevor's Garage, the home of the last honest mechanic, made an impressive fireball as it hurled the last burning pieces of its life high into the morning air.


	3. Part 2 a You are being Watched

PART II

From the Magazine rack at Sonny's Shop 'n' Save...

"**Say YES to intimacy**" -Relationship, the Magazine

"**Fight Back**! How to **Defend Yourself** against Identity Thieves" -PC World

"The Odds that **You Are Being Watched** are Greater than You Think" -Technology Today

"**Follow**ing **the** press conference, Commissioner Baldwin confirmed that **drugs**..." -Port Charles Tribune

"How to Get What You Want from Your Man" -Cosmopolitan

"Is **Time Running Out**? Secrets of the Mayans Revealed!" -Rumor Mill

"**Be**ing **Ruthless in the Workplace**- **Kill** the Competition & **Win the** Daily Power **Struggle**" -Success

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The two plain-clothes detectives sat in an unmarked police sedan in the parking lot of the Port Charles cemetery. The bone-white car fit in with the pale headstones and marble monuments nestled in regular rows among the lush green grass and vegetation. The investigators' watchful gazes were trained on a funeral party several yards away across the verdant field. They had been in position well before the ceremony began, and the younger of the two ran a restless hand through his unruly black hair as the ceremony dragged on.

"Explain to me again why we're here?" asked Detective Dante Falconeri with a frustrated sigh.

"We're Detectives. I still like to think that 'detecting' is a part of our jobs," answered the older of the two men. He shifted his spare frame in the passenger seat, idly running his fingers over the camera in his lap.

Lucas Spencer had been the youngest man promoted to Detective in the history of the Port Charles Police Department. At the time he had been resentful of the distrust and unease with which he had been regarded by the older, more experienced officers. Since being partnered with Dante, Lucas had begun to understand their initial misgivings. Though only a handful of years separated him and his partner, sometimes he felt much, much older- not to mention wiser.

Dante regarded the distant casket with a skeptical eye. "This, uh, this was just another drug-related shootout, right? Gang-bangers, junkies... I don't know, I just don't see those types getting sentimental. This wasn't a domestic case or your typical murder by a family member or friend. Why would the guy who put a cap in this wannabe gangster bother to show up here to pay his respects?"

Lucas's intense, clear gaze never wavered from the small crowd of dark-clad attendees. "I don't know." He spoke quietly, as if mulling over his thoughts as much as answering his partner. "This case is different somehow. The usual motives, there's no evidence that they apply here. No sign of robbery, nobody was sold fake drugs, and there's no chatter on the street about rival syndicates. If the crime is different, then the criminal might be different too. What if we have the one mob shooter in Port Charles with a conscience?"

Dante snorted. "You can't know any of that. This stiff was suspected of Zacharra ties, but I doubt his own ma will miss him much." He nodded toward the small assembly. "Don't see many hankies over there. Not a wet eye in the house."

"I don't know anything yet, but I have suspicions. That's why we're here. To build a case you have to have evidence to support your suspicions. So far we have nothing." Lucas tapped the camera in his lap. "We need to try some unorthodox tactics, no matter how far-fetched they may seem, if we want to generate a lead."

Dante glanced across at the blade-thin profile of his partner. "Why do you care so much anyway? Some drug dealing scum won't live to collect a pension. Society is actually better off with some guys under the ground rather than walking on it. We both know this will probably go down as unsolved, and no one will lose any sleep over it."

Lucas's eyes narrowed. "I don't like it when things don't add up. And there's always _justice_. You're in Homicide now. We speak for the dead, remember?" His voice lowered to an almost-whisper. "Everyone deserves justice. Besides, you could stand to solve a case, win some respect."

"You trying to say I'm not the most popular guy in the squad room? Look, I know what they're saying. Upstart kid from the organized crime task force used his big city cache to wrangle a promotion and a position he didn't earn. That about the gist of it?"

Lucas shrugged. "I went through the same thing. If you show them that you're good murder-police, that you can do the job, the rest won't matter."

Dante shrugged and decided to change the subject. "I'm all for justice. I just never imagined looking for it would be this boring." He yawned then pantomimed slapping himself awake. "Speaking of things that don't add up..." he cut his eyes sidelong to watch his partner for a reaction. "Guess who I ran into yesterday at the personnel office? A Luke Spencer?" Lucas visibly tensed, but he continued to stare at the funeral goers. "Any relation? Like maybe your old man? Guess he's an ex-detective or something."

"Yeah." Lucas's tone was colder than the trickle of air-conditioned vapor sliding out of the dashboard vents. "And an ex-con."

Dante watched his partner now with far more interest than he had given to the distant mourners. "Yeah, I guess I heard some rumors about that."

Lucas frowned. His jaw tensed to an angry line. "I guess you did."

"Seems like from what I heard that the old-timers left in the department actually have a lot of respect for him. I heard he was the real deal, real old school."

Lucas rubbed a hand over his lightly stubbled chin. "He was an old school criminal," he intoned with a cold finality.

Dante shrugged. "Anybody can make a mistake. Even the best can step over a line if the conditions are right. You talk about your mom sometimes, your sister, your aunt... you never mention your old man. It's like he doesn't exist. Then I find out he does, and what's more he was a Detective just like you. Talk about things that don't add up..."

"I'm nothing like my dad." Lucas slumped a little in his seat and all the anger seemed to drain out of him. For a moment he looked younger than his years- a grim, sad boy. "His actions drove my mom to a breakdown. He destroyed his career, lost his shield, and most of the years I was growing up he was in prison. The man I looked up to was a lie. He _didn't_ exist for me. Because of him, both of my parents were institutionalized for a long time."

Dante nodded slowly. "So he's still not your favorite guy, I get it. But Lucas, your dad is your dad, right? I follow you, it was a shitty deal when you were a kid, but the only thing worse than having a father who let you down is not having a father at all." Dante turned his attention back to the ceremony, the figure of the priest reading from an open bible; the few, lonely rows of detached onlookers. Suddenly his partner's discomfort held no more fascination for him. Instead he felt the stirring of a deep sadness and sympathy. "I never got the chance to look up to my old man, whoever he is. He's probably long dead. You may think you know what that's like, not having a father, but you don't. Trust me. I talked to Mr. Spencer for just minute yesterday, and once he heard that I'm in Homicide, do you know what he said to me? He said 'say hello to Lucky for me.'"

Lucas looked away from the funeral for the first time. Staring blankly at the camera in his lap. "Lucky," he said bitterly, "was my name once... a long time ago. I'm not that kid anymore."

Dante shook his head. "Your parents named you Lucky. Maybe they felt lucky when you came along. It means your dad believed in you, to give you a name like that. Do you know what I would give to ever know that, to feel that about my father? You may not have much respect for my skills as a detective yet, but I'm a pretty observant guy or I wouldn't have made it this far, this fast. When I looked at Luke Spencer I saw a sad old man. A man whose been carrying around a burden on his back for a long time. It looked a lot like the one I see on your shoulders sometimes."

Lucas glanced at his companion as if seeing him for the first time. "What are you, Dr. Phil now? I should be mad as hell at you for getting involved in my business."

"But you're not."

Lucas chuckled. "No, I guess I'm not."

Dante's eyes roamed the funeral scene as the diminutive crowd finally began to disperse. "We're all in this thing together. We're all cogs in some giant cosmic machine. I guess when you realize that, you can believe that 'everyone deserves justice,' or at least a break. Even this dead scumbag... even your old man. Hell, maybe even mine whoever and wherever he is. As much as we'd like to, none of us can do this 'life' thing alone."

Lucas looked back down at the camera, lost in thought.

"Alone..." Dante continued, his voice now tinged with a dawning excitement, "alone... Spencer, this guy, this one here in the dark hoodie, " he pointed, his fingertip broadening against the inner curve of the windshield. "He's leaving alone."

Lucas immediately focused on the scene before the two men. A spare figure in dark jeans, a black hooded sweatshirt concealing all but a hint of brown hair, pale hands and a measured, steady gait.

Dante drew a deep breath and grinned widely. "Come to think of it, this guy stood alone through the whole funeral, a little apart from all the others."

Lucas raised the camera which whirred to life, greedily snapping frame after frame of the lone mourner.

Dante chuckled. "I've got this funny feeling Spencer, like maybe I'm starting to believe in unorthodox tactics. Are we on to something here? I mean look at this guy, he doesn't belong here, he just feels _wrong_."

Lucas zoomed in and through the camera's dispassionate eye he watched as the figure, a pale young man, turned piercing green eyes his direction as if staring directly into the camera. Lucas snapped a picture. "Smile you little prick," he mumbled. "You're on candid camera."

"We'll have to run this guy's picture, see if we can make an i.d., see if there's some connection. It's thin, but what the hell, it could be a lead right?" Dante tapped his fingers excitedly on the steering wheel. "I've got to hand it to you Spencer, if this pans out you called it."

Lucas glanced over at the younger man. "I lost my focus. You noticed the guy. My instincts wouldn't have mattered without that." He turned his intense stare back to the distant retreating figure. "Besides, it could be nothing. A dead end."

For a few moments both detectives watched the young man, who was leaving the cemetery on foot. In the ensuing silence a new feeling hung in the air of the sedan. For the first time the two young men felt like partners.

"You wanted to drive, so let's get going. We're gonna see where he goes."

Dante slid the transmission into reverse and began maneuvering the car to leave the parking lot.

Lucas spared a glance across the cemetery, to where the dark casket was being lowered into the maw of the earth. The elation he had felt moments before evaporated, and he frowned. "I've got this bad feeling... like if we don't get ahead of this there's going to be a lot more bodies going into the ground."


	4. Part 2 b Fight Back Defend Yourself

At the Shop 'n' Save Dillon found Damian standing in the magazine aisle, staring at the racks of periodicals and tabloids.

"Hey man." Dillon nodded shyly toward his new co-worker, his long blond hair falling over his eyes.

"How's it going?" Damian replied.

"Okay. Just changing prices, you know?

"Not really."

Dillon shrugged and shifted his feet. "I looked for you on break..."

"I took an hour. I had somewhere to be for a while."

Dillon waited for a few moments, but Damian didn't offer more details.

"Yeah, so I noticed you like to look at the magazines, but, um, I've never seen you pick one up."

Damian turned his inscrutable gaze on his scruffy companion. Dillon had a hand-held scanner and a an apparatus called a price gun tucked into the front pockets of his Shop 'n' Save apron. He held a clipboard in one hand that was stacked with papers listing details of upcoming sales and product price changes. Dillon shifted a bit uncomfortably, turning the clipboard over and moving it's contents out of view.

"I like to look at the covers. I'm not all that interested with what's inside," Damian said. Dillon nodded sagely, as if he understood, but he didn't get it at all.

"So... today is payday. You ought to drop by customer service before you leave and see if they have your first check. That's one good thing about this place. They don't make you wait two weeks or anything."

Damian nodded. Suddenly the store intercom crackled to life.

"I se enamoro de LuLu Spencer." The unexpected words were intoned without much enthusiasm. The intercom fell silent once more. Dillon chuckled. "I thought for sure Diego wouldn't follow through on the bet. He took long enough. I guess he's hoping not many people in the store speak Spanish! It was so sweet the way you and Cassius beat those guys."

Damian didn't acknowledge the compliment. "LuLu Spencer. What do you know about her?"

Dillon blushed and glanced away. "Um, I don't know much more than you do. I haven't been here all that long either." Damian looked back at the magazines. Dillon could sense that he was losing interest in the conversation; he rushed to come up with a better answer. "I mean, seems like she's best friends with that girl Maxie. They, uh, they don't hang out much with guys like me. They've kind of got their own clique, you know? She's cute... really cute." Dillon stammered nervously, then cleared his throat self-consciously. "But she's always with Maxie, and that girl kind of scares me. Doesn't she scare you?"

Damian's demeanor remained detached, his face unreadable. "Guess not," Dillon continued, "I don't think she has a boyfriend, if you're, you know, interested. LuLu I mean. I think that guy Logan has something going on with Maxie, but nobody really seems too sure what's going on with them."

Damian nodded. "I wonder if Logan is even sure. From what I've seen she treats him like crap."

Dillon sighed. "Well she's consistent. Nice to know she treats everybody the same I guess. I've heard that she's been so mean to some girls that she didn't like that they never came back to work."

"Anything else? You know anything about her family?"

"LuLu? Not really. I mean I've seen this older guy pick her up after work before. Maybe her dad or granddad. Thin guy with white hair. He never comes in the store."

"He's an outsider I guess," Damian said quietly.

Dillon wasn't sure what to say. He didn't have many friends and something drew him to this fellow employee, but every time he tried to find common ground he couldn't help but feel that they were talking about two different things- possibly in different dialects.

"Um I could try to find out more if you need me..."

"I've got to get back to work," Damian cut him off. Without another word he turned and headed for the stock room.

"Um yeah, me too. Catch you later... I... guess." Dillon called after Damian's quickly receding back. He stood alone for a few moments looking blankly in the direction of the magazine rack. He wondered what Damian found so fascinating about it, if his new acquaintance could see something special, some sort of mysterious code when he stared at the shelves of periodicals for minutes at a time. Finally he laughed softly under his breath. "Don't get all crazy Dillon!" He flipped his clipboard over, let one hand fall to the price-gun tucked in his apron and shuffled away.

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Later that afternoon Damian made his way to the customer service desk. It was more of a booth surrounded by a thick window. He could see Maxie and LuLu inside chatting and laughing. Damian wondered if the glass was bullet-proof. With Maxie's reputation, maybe it wasn't a bad idea.

Damian stepped up to the the small opening in the glass and waited for one of the girls to notice him. Seconds dragged on and the two girls didn't show any sign of interrupting their conversation. Maxie cut her eyes in Damian's direction, but went right on ignoring the young man standing at the service window. It felt like the seconds invited over friends and became minutes while he waited. Finally Damian leaned forward and spoke into the opening. "Excuse me."

The blond girl with longer hair, LuLu, began to lean in his direction, but Maxie placed a small hand with perfectly manicured nails on her wrist and the light touch served to restrain the other girl. Maxie carried right on talking in LuLu's ear, not giving her companion a chance to break away. LuLu obediently waited and listened, but she began to look a bit uncomfortable.

Damian gripped the edge of the desk and his knuckles slowly whitened. "Hello? I could use a little help here."

Maxie rolled her eyes. Her back arched in annoyance. "One second, _if _that's okay with you!" She replied before huddling again with LuLu and exchanging quick conspiratorial whispers. Finally she turned, and in an exasperated manner, approached the window. "What's so important that you had to interrupt a private conversation?" Her tone was only slightly warmer than glacial, and an equally cold hostility shone from her ice-blue eyes.

Damian waited, meeting her gaze evenly.

"Well?" She asked again.

"This is where we are supposed to pick up our checks, right? I'm not sure If I have one yet, so I..."

"Name?" Maxie asked curtly.

"Damian Spinelli. I've only worked a few days so..."

Maxie turned her back on him and walked across the enclosed cubicle to a filing cabinet. She opened a drawer and and picked her way carefully through several folders, taking her time. She finally plucked an envelope from the drawer and held it up between two slim fingers sporting perfectly manicured nails. She shot a wicked glance to her companion and said something that Damian couldn't make out. Both girls burst into laughter and looked back at Damian.

Damian felt the blush of embarrassment rise to his cheeks, which frustrated him more than anything Maxie had done. He slowed his breathing and refocused his thoughts, letting the turmoil of frustration sink into a calm sea. Maxie sauntered over to the window and slid the envelope through. Some of the hostility in her eyes had been replaced with cruel amusement and arrogant satisfaction.

"There. I'd make a few suggestions about where to spend it, a decent salon for starters, but I'm sure it wouldn't do much good."

"Thanks," Damian replied wryly. He continued speaking in an even, conversational tone."I understand that it's your thing to try to make the people around you feel small, so you can have some reason to feel good about yourself, but in the future when you're dealing with me- try doing your job without being such a bitch, okay? I'm not here to play into your inferiority complex, I'm doing a job, and I don't need your attitude. Clear?"

Maxie stared through the glass at Damian as if she had discovered some new and inexplicable disease. Behind her, LuLu watched with wide eyes. "Eh... excuse me? What did you say to me?"

Damian picked up the envelope. "Should I write it down for you?" He opened the envelope and removed his check, folded it and put it in his pocket. He picked up the pen attached to the desk by a light chain and wrote four words on the back of the now-empty envelope. He slowly and clearly pronounced each word as he wrote them. "You... Are... A... Bitch." He drew a smiley face at the end then slipped the envelope through the glass. There was no emotion on his face as he watched Maxie dazedly accept the envelope.

"Hey!" A male voice exclaimed. Damian turned to see Logan Hayes who had evidently arrived just in time to witness the end of the exchange. "Man, what the hell are you doing?" Logan glared at Damian with disbelief, his arms spread wide exhorting an explanation. Damian regarded the newcomer coolly.

Maxie made a hurt face and pleaded with Logan. Her voice was muffled slightly by the glass. "This guy just went off on me for no reason!"

Logan eyed Damian critically and took a step toward him. The proximity emphasized how much taller and more broad-shouldered he was than Damian. "Did you call her a bitch? What are you trying to do?"

"You think I'm wrong?" Damian asked.

Logan glanced at Maxie, who was now skewering him with a hard stare. He clenched his fists and a slow breath hissed between his gritted teeth. He was confused and wasn't sure how to deal with the sudden confrontation or who exactly was to blame- but this was a hassle he didn't need.

"Look, that's my girlfriend. You get it? You need to apologize. Right now."

Damian turned slightly and looked at Maxie who had folded her arms and was waiting. LuLu watched silently, one slim hand placed over her mouth. Damian strummed his fingers on the desk. Logan shifted his feet impatiently. Finally Damian turned back to Logan. He looked down at the floor between them.

"I'm sorry..." he said quietly. Maxie's lips stretched into a grin as she watched. Logan nodded, his stern features softening. Damian raised his eyes to meet the gaze of the taller young man. "...I'm sorry for you that she's your girlfriend. It must be difficult. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Have a good afternoon." Damian shouldered past Logan and disappeared through the check-out lines. Logan put his hands on his hips and shook his head in disbelief. Maxie smacked her hands onto the glass partition. Pressed against the glass in one hand was the envelope which quite clearly read, "You Are A Bitch. :)"

"You're just gonna watch him walk away?" She made a frustrated growling sound.

Logan threw up his hands. "What do you want me to do, Maxie?"

Maxie grimaced and jabbed a finger repeatedly in the direction of the break room. With a sigh Logan headed that direction. Maxie stormed across the customer service cubicle. "LuLu, I'm going on break... and just what the hell are you grinning at anyway?"

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In the break room Maxie paced back and forth between tables, each step landing as if grinding an offending insect under her heel. Several young co-workers scattered, sensing approaching disaster. In moments the two were alone together. Logan sat slumped in a chair, watching her back-and-forth progress with concern.

"All right. Just let me have it."

Maxie turned on him. "How could you let him say that to me and do nothing? How... _how could you_?"

"Maxie, he was out of line, but we're at work. I can't just knock-out anyone I please." He leaned down over his knees and ran both hands over his head and short dirty-blond hair. "Did you do something to him? Say something?"

Maxie threw the envelope in Logan's direction and exploded furiously. "Some guy, a nobody, an idiot gives me _this_ and now it's _my_ fault?"

"I didn't say that, but why are you always in the middle of some ridiculous drama? I don't know this guy that well, but so far he seems like he's quiet... just minds his own business. And I've never met anyone who likes stirring up trouble as much as you do. Maxie I..."

"_You _are supposed to be my boyfriend!" she cut him off.

Logan sat up and the muscles in the strong line of his jaw tensed and jumped out. "Yeah, it's a real funny thing about that. I'm your boyfriend all right- when it's convenient for you. The rest of the time I can hardly even get your attention. I hear the rumors... about you and other guys." Logan cleared his throat. "I just want to know that you care at all." He frowned and slumped sadly.

Maxie stopped pacing and walked over to him. She reached out and placed a petite hand on his head. She trailed her nails down his scalp and along his cheek. "I care about you Logan. I do."

He looked up and his pleading eyes searched her face. "You know how I feel about you, but you have to give me something, _anything_ to work with here."

Her fingers stiffened, the nails digging in to the skin of his jaw. "Fix this Logan. Fix him. Do it after work and away from here if you are so scared of getting into trouble. He's finished... or we are. _Work_ with _that_."

She spun on her heel and stalked away leaving Logan alone in the empty room.


	5. Part 2 c Be Ruthless in the Workplace

At the end of his shift Damian walked by the punch clock. It was still non-operational. He wrote his time on his card as Cassius had shown him and then made his way to the back of the store. He was unconcerned that several of his co-workers took a keener interest in him than normal and talked amongst themselves as he passed. He walked by the meat department as two men were arriving for their shifts. The Giambetti brothers worked in the evenings and were well known to night-shift stockers as well. They claimed to be descended from a long line of famous Giambetti butchers going all the way back to the old country. The one night Damian had helped close the store the brothers had invited him to play a few hands of poker. He had won forty dollars from the brothers, but he didn't have to do anything to win them over. For some reason unknown to him, they had liked him from his first day on the job. They were broad shouldered and ham fisted - their faces mottled and reddish like the slabs of meat they were surrounded by. They were loud, boisterous and always in good spirits. They made wearing aprons look manly.

"Daaayyyyymeeeeaaahhhhnnn!" they called to him as he strode by. "How's it hangin' kid?"Milo, the younger brother asked.

"A little to the left," Damian answered Milo with a straight face.

"When you gonna give us a chance to win our two hundred back?" Max, the older Giambetti queried with goodhearted gruffness. The amount of Damian's winnings grew every time the Giambetti brothers reminisced about the event.

Damian nodded to Max as he walked by. "It was forty, and I got my first check today, so anytime."

The two brothers chuckled and elbowed each other as they busied themselves preparing long knives and wicked looking meat cleavers. Milo began checking over the department's impressively massive meat grinder. "Gotta love that kid, Max!"

"What a guy!" Max agreed as he drove a tenderizing hammer down on a slab of beef making a rib-bone snap. "He cracks me up!"

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Damian pushed open the door to a small room in the back of the store that served the stockers as a locker room. "What's goin' on Shaggy?" Cassius had just finished changing into his street clothes- a dark sports coat, pin-stripe button down shirt, leather belt with a silver and turquoise buckle, dark, well-pressed chinos and black leather shoes. He looked like an intern for a wall street investment firm.

"Nothing much." Damian made his way to his locker and began removing his Shop 'n' Save attire.

Cassius held up a blue tie that matched his belt. "What do you think, tie or no?"

"No."

Cassius nodded. "That's what I thought. Gift from my Grandma, you know?"

Damian stilled for a moment, then continued changing clothes. Cassius pulled a back pack out of his locker and set it in the floor. He opened a flap and took out a baggie filled with marijuana. He quickly and expertly rolled a small joint which he stashed somewhere on his person with the dexterity of a magician making a coin disappear. He grinned at the baggie and then carefully folded it in an old t shirt and replaced it in the pack. When he finished this operation, Cassius smoothed his shirt and spoke casually. "Nothing much going on huh? That's not what I hear. I got the low-down that our friend Logan is on the warpath- that he thinks you did something to his girl."

"I guess he can think what he wants."

"Shaggy... Damian, why you trying to get all on the wrong side of those people?" Cassius dropped his usual air of casual distance for a few moments. "Look man, you've only been here a few days, and you're mixing it up with the wrong crowd. I've tried to show you how it is, right? This place is fucked up, hell we all know that. You just do what you have to do to look past it all and just get by."

Damian stopped what he was doing and turned his full attention to Cassius.

"Like get stoned?" His eyes were blank, unreadable, but his tone carried a hint of tension.

Cassius leaned closer and rested one hand on the wall. "That's my prescription for this bullshit. Doesn't have to be yours. I'm just saying, what's the point in making waves? Water gets too rough, people drown!"

"You told me on my first day that I couldn't let people walk on me around here."

Cassius grimaced. "Yeah but sometimes the best way not to get stepped on is to just stay out of the way, you feel me?"

Damian took off his button down shirt and folded it. Cassius was surprised to see that Damian's lean frame, which appeared sparse and lanky when clothed, was actually hard and lined with banded muscle.

"Cassius, how long have you been here?"

"Hell Shaggy, way too long. I worked here when I was a kid for Big Daddy Mike- that was Sonny's father. He was a good man. He built this place up from nothing, and folks round here wouldn't think of shopping anyplace else. But that was then..." Cassius grimaced as if tasting a dish he didn't care for at all. "Now Sonny, he's a whole different story. The only reason that store Quartermania got into the neighborhood is because Sonny's so good at running the Shop 'n' Save into the ground. The Quartermaines have been undercutting all the local shops, runnin' everyone out of business. Sonny's pissin' away all of his old man's work, and if I gave him a hundred dollars he still couldn't _buy_ a clue. Either he doesn't know what he's doin' or he doesn't care."

Damian pulled a sweat shirt over his head and let it settle into place. "You know just about everything about the business don't you? And you know about everything that goes on here too."

"I guess so. Except the night-shift maybe. Diego somehow sleazed his way into running that crew, and he's all territorial about it. He's real sensitive about who gets on graveyard. Rumor has it that he won't even let Sonny on the warehouse floor at night. Guess he wants things done his way and nobody messing around with it." Cassius laughed scornfully. "It works out though, cause me and him, we have an agreement. He doesn't like workin' with me, and I sure as hell don't like workin' with him."

Damian mentally filed this information away. "Cassius, you've seen how things can be done correctly, how they used to be done, and I doubt anyone in the store knows the business or the neighborhood like you do."

"Yeah, there ain't much lame in my game, but what are you getting at?"

"What do you think? Why don't you do something about it? Make this place better." Damian sat down and began slipping on tennis shoes.

Cassius rubbed his chin and looked at Damian skeptically. "Is that what you're trying to do with all this trouble you're into? Make things better?"

Damian stopped tying his shoes and stared at the floor for a few seconds before shaking his head and pulling the laces tight. "No. That's not my mission."

"Mission?" Cassius laughed again. "Okay, whatever. Look, no one notices when someone tries to do things right. The people with the power just don't give a shit. All they want to do is milk what they can from the poor suckers they got a little power over. You think Sonny notices or cares that I know his business and his store better than he does?"

Damian stood. "Maybe you don't show him anything worth noticing."

Cassius stepped back as if he'd been slapped. "Is that what you think?"

Damian's posture shifted subtly, and his green eyes now smouldered with a cold anger. "I think you're wasted _all the time_ because it's easier to stay numb and laugh at the world as it crumbles around you, than it is to admit that you've failed to try something, anything, to save what you care about from being destroyed."

Cassius grimaced and seemed torn between anger and disappointment. "You're letting me down Shaggy. Been here a few days and already riding your high horse so hard it's stuck half way up your ass. You've got no right to judge me."

Damian's whole body quivered with tension that seemed to have come from nowhere. He was looking at Cassius, but his eyes were focused on something far away. "What would your Granny say if she could see what you've done?"

Cassius grimaced. "My Grandma..." he trailed off and his eyes narrowed as he examined the young man in front of him. "You still talkin' about me or yourself?"

Damian let out a long breath and the tension flowed from his body. Slowly he turned back to his locker and began arranging it's contents.

"What's up with you, man?" Cassius asked. "I thought maybe we were getting to be friends."

"I've only got one friend," Damian answered, his voice emotionless, " and he's not here."

Cassius shook his head in disgust and snatched his backpack from the floor. "You know what? Fuck it. You just keep right on doing things on your own, since you've got it all figured out." He turned to leave and almost stepped into Logan Hayes who was now standing in the doorway. As each shifted to let the other pass neither noticed Damian retrieve the nine-millimeter pistol from his locker and slip it into the back waist band of his jeans. He pulled his bulky sweatshirt down to cover the protruding grip.

Cassius stalked angrily from the room as Logan slowly approached.

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"Don't worry, I'm not here to fight. I just... I want to talk to you."

Damian nodded and gestured to the bench across from him, before sitting down himself. Logan slung a leg over the bench and settled down straddling it. He cocked his head and glanced over his shoulder at the door before turning his focus back to Damian.

"Look, you seem like an okay guy. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot with that basketball game or something? I know Diego acted like an asshole, that's just him, but I hope you know I'm not like that."

Damian watched him dispassionately. "It was just a game. I played because Cassius told me to. It didn't mean anything."

"Exactly!" Logan let out a relieved sigh. "I don't want to fight you man. This mess with Maxie, it's probably just a misunderstanding, right?"

"I don't want to fight you either," Damian agreed, "but Maxie and I understood each other perfectly."

Logan's brow creased, and he frowned. "You stepped over the line. Calling her out in the middle of the store? Most of the employees have already heard about it. Something's got to be done, you understand?"

"I've assessed the situation again. Maxie baited me, and I reacted emotionally. I should never have let her distract me. My reaction was too harsh." Damian thought about Cassius, how the young man who had tried to mentor him in his own way had walked away angry because of hard words. He bit his lip.

Logan sat up and looked hopeful for the first time. "So you'll apologize to her? Just tell her you're sorry, and I can smooth this over." He shrugged. "You'll probably have to do it in front of her friends- that's the only way she'll be happy, but I don't think there's anything I can do about that."

"No, I don't think so," Damian said evenly.

There was silence for a few moments. Logan stared at Damian incredulously.

"You won't apologize?"

"I think I'll pass."

Logan slouched down over his knees and ran both of his hands over the back of his neck as if battling the beginnings of a migraine. "All right. Here's what's going to happen. You know the stairs inside the northeast entrance of the park- the ones with the columns and arches and stuff?"

"I know the place."

Logan sighed and continued. "You're gonna meet me there in an hour. I'll try to keep Maxie from bringing a big audience. You meet me there, and we get this over with. If you're there, and you don't make me come looking for you, I'll go real easy on you. The fight will just be for show. You'll get a little banged up, sure, but I promise I won't hurt you too bad."

"That's no way to fight." Damian's tone betrayed no emotion.

"What?" Logan sputtered, confused.

"If you choose to fight me I'll defend myself. The cardinal rule of combat is _fight to win_."

Logan gritted his teeth, his face flushed with frustration. "If I choose? Between you and Maxie, I'm not getting much of a choice here!"

Damian shrugged and watched Logan with an unsympathetic gaze.

"Look kid, there's pride and then there's just plain _stupid_. I'm trying to help you out here. Look at me and look at yourself. If you force me to do this for real you're gonna get hurt."

Damian waited silently.

Logan leaned back and sucked in a deep breath. He decided to try a different tack. "You think any of this is going to matter a few months from now? I've got plans, man. A whole life that's got nothing to do with this place. I'm going to join the military, get some skills, an education..."

"You want to be a soldier," Damian stated.

"Yeah, I'm just trying to get by until then. A year from now no one's gonna remember who won or lost one fight. Stop being a pain in the ass!"

"If it doesn't matter then why do it?" Damian asked, though he already knew the answer. "Maxie," he stated. "You care about her."

Logan slumped again, defeated. "I love her. I don't know why I'm telling you this." He let out a long breath and squared his jaw as if coming to a decision. "You can't repeat any of this, okay?"

After a moment Damian nodded.

"Maxie's not the terrible person everyone thinks she is," Logan continued. "She has issues... things have happened in her family. Her parents are divorced, and... she has an eating disorder. When she was just a kid she got really sick and had to have a heart transplant, so this stuff can effect her health even more than a normal person, you know? I work really hard to get her to eat right, but every time I feel like I'm making progress she turns cold and shuts me out." Logan sighed in frustration. "I don't think she believes that anyone _can_ really love her, so she wants people to envy her, to be afraid of her. I have to show her, you understand? I have to do this."

In the silence following these confessions the two young men sat quietly regarding one another.

Finally Damian shifted. "I'll be there. One hour."

Logan stood and looked down at Damian regretfully. He opened his mouth to say something but then thought better of it. He turned and pushed open the door.

"It's Damian, right? Your name."

"Yes."

"Damian... you're one weird guy, you know that?"

"Yes."

The door swung shut with a ponderous finality after Logan left. Damian glanced around the empty locker room. He stood and stretched, then slowly pulled the pistol from his waistband. He held it under the light and stared at it for a few moments. Finally he turned to his locker and placed the gun under his folded Shop 'n' Save apron. He closed the locker and secured it with a combination lock he had picked up from the hardware aisle. He placed his fingertips gently on the locker door.

"I won't be needing you," he said quietly. "Not yet."


	6. Part 2 d Mister Zero

Johnny Zacchara was browsing the first-aid aisle of a pharmacy when his cell phone rang. He reached in his pocket and retrieved it, wincing as his dark jeans rubbed the pale bandage on his forearm.

"Yeah."

"Johnny, it's Claudia."

"Hello sis, to what do I owe-"

"What the fuck are you doing, Johnny?"

Johnny winced again- this time at his older sister's furious tone. "Just doing some shopping."

"Shopping? For what a flame-thrower? Trevor talked to me, Johnny. You want to tell me why you attacked him, why you _blew up_ his garage?"

"Claudia, they were running drugs out of there. They spit on our father's name- they took his money to keep that garage open, then they used it for a drug operation!"

"Why the hell is that your business? That garage was making a lot of money for our family!"

Johnny's grip tightened on the phone as the pharmacy seemed to shift and waver around him. He choked and tasted blood. He realized he had bitten his tongue. The pain focused his shattered thoughts.

"You _knew_?"

"Johnny, Daddy is bedridden. Most days he doesn't recognize anyone, or even know his own name. Someone has to protect his business."

"You trying to tell me that Dad knew?"

"For Christ's sake, get your head out of your ass and stop being so naive! How do you think Daddy built his empire? Construction? Sanitation?" The voice on the phone held nothing but angry scorn."You think nickle and dime crap put you through private school or gave Daddy the connections to call in a favor from a New York state Judge when you were facing charges?"

"I've had to hear this kind of shit my whole life," Johnny replied angrily, "but never from family! You're lying, Claudia!"

"_I'm_ lying? So you attacked our family's operation over some sudden righteous indignation over drugs? It didn't have anything to do with protecting that nutcase that you adopted- the one that shot up Trevor's boys?"

Johnny growled. "You fucking leave him out of this!"

The angry screaming from the phone was garbled and unintelligible for several seconds. Johnny held it away from his ear until the shrieking dropped in decibels.

"...a goddamn joke! This is not wrecking Daddy's car, John! This is serious! Since his aneurysm Daddy's partners have been taking more and more control of things. These are serious people that will _not_ be fucked with! If your boy or you cause any more trouble, then I can't be held responsible. I might be able to make a deal, to get a pass for what's happened, but it's going to cost me more than you know.

If _anything_ else happens, your boy is done. And he might take the rest of us with him." Fear entered the woman's voice for the first time. "If we become a liability to these people, there's no one left to protect us. Johnny, I'm your sister... for god's sake..."

Johnny ran his free hand up through his hair, tangling his fingers and then pulling tightly. "I gotta go. I gotta think. I can't believe you. I can't believe this shit!"

"Johnny... John... you listening to me? Pull yourself together. Grow up and get this crazy friend of yours under control, get yourself under control or there _will_ be hell to pay."

"He's not crazy," Johnny said through gritted teeth, but the connection was dead.

.

.

Johnny Zacchara was walking out of the pharmacy with a bag in his arms wondering how his day could possibly get any worse when the answer materialized in front of him.

"Hello John, you remember me?" Dante Falconeri asked as he thrust his badge under Johnny's nose. Johnny grimaced and looked past Dante at a thin young man who also had 'cop' written all over him.

"You already know this guy?" Lucas asked

"Yeah, we've met in an official capacity," Dante answered. "My partner busted him a couple of years ago in New York for..." Dante snapped his fingers and made a show of trying to recall something. "Help me out, John. What was it again?"

Johnny smiled, baring his teeth. "Assault. And possession of narcotics."

"Right!" Dante smiled back and stepped to one side, allowing his partner to step in closer. Together they crowded Johnny, forcing him back against the building. "But of course, just like with a lot of things when it comes to the Zaccharas, or bad undercooked pasta, the charges didn't stick."

Lucas scowled as he looked Johnny up and down. "Let me guess. Did your daddy get you out of that one, John?"

Johnny's smile looked even more forced. He didn't bother to answer.

"Of course he did!" Dante stated. "If I remember right, the charges were pled down and he was sent to counseling or some horse shit."

"It's great to see you again..." Johnny trailed off.

"Detective Falconeri," Dante supplied. He nodded toward his partner. "This is Detective Spencer."

"Terrific," Johnny said, his eyes darting back and forth between the two men. "Now if we're done with the trip down memory-fucking-lane, I've got places to-"

"What's in the bag, John?" Lucas snatched the bag from Johnny without waiting for an answer.

Johnny ground his teeth. "You guys got no right."

"Settle down, we have a few questions for you," Dante said. "Co-operate or you'll be answering them at the station."

"Let's see... bandages, ointment, a lot of aloe vera, aspirin." Lucas shoved the bag back into Johnny's chest. "You been playing with fire, John?"

"Yeaaahhh, check it out I can see bandages on your arms sticking out of your shirt here, and John, I gotta say your eyebrows aren't looking as full as they used to." Dante smirked. "You're looking a little on the well done side. What happened?"

"I was out for a walk the other night when I noticed there was an orphanage on fire." Johnny grinned, but his fists were clenched. "I ran in to save some sad little kids."

Lucas looked Johnny in the eye, and then shifted his stance to keep eye contact when Johnny looked away. "I must of missed that on the news, but I did hear about a garage that burned to the ground a few nights ago."

"Trevor's," Dante added helpfully.

"Right, and coincidentally your father, one Anthony Zacchara, had a lot of money invested in the place," Lucas continued. "The fire looks just like arson, but surprise, surprise- no one's talking. Are you running insurance fraud jobs for daddy now?"

"You guys know exactly..." Johnny held up one hand, making a circle with his thumb and index finger, "...nothing. Zero. My father is a businessman who has done more for the community than you guys will in your whole careers of issuing traffic tickets. To do business in New York you have to know people, and deal with some people that you'd rather not have to. That doesn't make you part of the Mob."

Dante snorted incredulous laughter and glanced at his partner. "You believe this guy?" He turned his full attention back to Johnny. " Is this zero?" Dante pulled a photo out of his jacket and held it up in front of Johnny's face.

Johnny paled as he took in the photo in a glance- a young man with brown hair and green eyes wearing a dark hoodie. "Who's that supposed to be?" He swallowed hard.

Dante's smile widened. "Let's call him Mister Zero. We were hoping you could tell us who he is."

"We've been told he bears a striking resemblance to your roommate, Damian Spinelli," Lucas stated.

"It's a shitty picture. I can't be sure who that is." Johnny tried to keep any excitement out of his voice. "Where'd you take it?"

"At the Cemetery," Lucas answered. "There was a funeral for a drug dealer named Franco Moretti who was killed in a shootout a week ago. This Franco, he also worked part-time as a mechanic. Can you guess where? I bet you can if you think about it."

"Not Trevor's Garage?" asked Dante with exaggerated surprise.

"The same!" Lucas placed his hands on his hips, pushing his jacket back so that the butt of his service pistol could be seen. "Sadly, he succumbed to a nine-mil slug."

Dante frowned. "Ouch, seems like there's a lot of cases of lead poisoning going around these days. Hey, according to records, there's a nine-millimeter registered under your name, isn't there John? Seems our cup over-floweth with coincidences here."

"Yeah where is that piece right now, John?" Lucas asked.

"It was stolen a few months back. I'm sure I reported it. Unless it slipped my mind."

"Of course," Dante said. "And Damian Spinelli? Where can we find him?"

"I haven't seen him for a few days. I'm not his secretary. He goes where he wants, and it's none of my business as long as he pays his share of the rent." Johnny tried to keep his emotions from showing on his face, but his thoughts were racing. If these Detectives were asking for Damian, it meant that they hadn't gotten to him yet. The picture was at least proof that Damian was still alive and well, which filled Johnny with relief. "Why do you want him?"

Lucas stared grimly at Johnny. "Let's say he's a 'person of interest' in a homicide."

"Both of you are in this somehow, aren't you John?" Dante scrutinized Johnny for a reaction, or a sign of weakness. "We're going to put the pieces together. It's what we do. And this time your father's not going to be able to make any calls on your behalf, is he?"

Johnny looked down and did his best to swallow his anger. "I've been clean for almost two years, and I've got my anger management issues under control. I don't know where Damian is, but I can tell you that we were hanging out together almost every night last week, and there's no way he was involved in any shooting."

Lucas spat on the sidewalk. "Like you weren't involved in any fire?"

"You got any more questions, you better call my lawyer. I'm not saying any more unless she's present."

Dante stepped in closer to Johnny. He took a business card from his wallet and put it in the bag Johnny was holding. "I think we're going to be arranging that real soon, John. The pieces are falling into place. If you talk to your roommate, be a good friend to him and tell him to call us."

"Things will go easier for him if he comes to us voluntarily," Lucas said. "If our Mister Zero _is_ your roommate, he gave us the slip around Ninth and Main. If we have to go kicking in doors to find him, things could get ugly. Go get him and convince him to come talk to us. We just want the truth. If he's in trouble, we can help him before things get worse."

"And make no mistake, John," Dante added ominously, "things are gonna get worse."

.

.

Johnny slumped against the wall after the two Detectives left him alone. He was trying to calm the surging emotions that threatened to overwhelm his control, to concentrate on remembering all of the places near Ninth and Main. Suddenly he slammed the pharmacy bag against the concrete violently. He grunted as his fist caromed off the wall, then he began to laugh. "Shit, D! I don't know whether to piss blood or dance the macarena! We're up to our ears in shit, but you're alive..." Johnny blew out a breath and suddenly he was struggling not to break down. "You're alive..." he breathed, and the words held all the solemn reverence of a prayer.


	7. Part 2 e Back in Black

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"Where is he?" Maxie asked petulantly as she looked at her Bulgari designer watch embossed with heart patterns. "You said he would be here by now!"

Logan sighed. "Maxie, please! He'll be here all right?" He leaned against a concrete column and gazed out over the stairs below, his face stern and resigned.

The small group had a good view of the northeast entrance of the park. They were standing on a flat concrete feature adorned with tall columns and archways. In front of them a wide, sweeping series of concrete steps sloped down to merge with the main walking path through the public park. Every where around them crowded majestic trees and well trimmed shrubs and vegetation. LuLu thought it was an ironically serene setting for a violent confrontation. She stood a little behind Maxie, watching anxiously and resisting the temptation to wring her hands in worry.

"I hope he doesn't show," she said.

Maxie turned on her. "LuLu! Why are you so stupid?"

LuLu spread her hands defensively and tossed her long blond hair in exasperation. "Why are you so vindictive? I don't want to see someone get hurt. Is that wrong for some reason?"

Maxie's cheeks were white and her drawn lips were blood red. "Logan is just defending my honor! This loser can't be allowed to get away with what he did. You were there Lulu, he practically attacked both of us, and we were just doing our jobs. He should pay! And more people should be here to see it," she added with a tinge of bitterness.

Lulu couldn't believe her ears. "Maxie, we provoked him on purpose. We tried to make him feel like crap, because we thought it was fun for some reason. This isn't fun! Please stop this before something worse happens!"

Instead of losing her temper or berating her companion, Maxie turned and stared off into the park, lines of worry creased her normally perfectly smooth features. "It'll be fine, you'll see," Maxie said quietly, but her voice quivered with uncertainty now, and Lulu wondered who she was trying to convince.

"I can't believe this!" LuLu pressed both of her hands over her mouth, her wide eyes glimmered wetly. "This is _wrong_."

.

.

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Only one remaining street separated Damian from the entrance to the park. He had walked this far slowly, unexpected remorse dragging at his heels. He glanced up at the arched park entrance and froze. The girl in black was standing there, under the archway; the breeze catching and pulling at her long black skirt and tousling her flowing jet-black hair. It was the same girl he had glimpsed during the basketball game on his first day at the Shop 'n' Save. He felt the jolt of the same almost electric shock that slammed through his nerves that day. He was rooted to the spot, watching her with his mouth hanging open stupidly.

"Hey Shaggy."

Damian turned his head and saw Cassius and Dillon approaching him. Dillon smiled sheepishly as the breeze whipped his long, tangled blond hair. "Hi Damian."

Damian looked back across the street, but the girl in black had vanished like an inky mirage.

"What are you guys doing here?"

Cassius seemed about to answer, but he paused and it was Dillon who spoke. "Someone's got to have your back, right?"

Cassius kicked at a stone on the sidewalk. "Hell, Shaggy... looks like you have some friends after all. Who woulda thought?"

Damian felt an unexpected warmth in his cheeks and a lump caught in his throat. He coughed to clear it. "Cassius, about earlier..."

"Let's not talk about it right now, okay?" Cassius implored. "Let's just say we're cool for now. That work for you?"

Damian nodded gratefully. "How did you know about this?"

Cassius laughed. "Shit! At the Shop 'n' Save you could bring the Statue of Liberty through the warehouse doors, and if it had to do with _ work _then nobody would notice. But if some kind of _drama_ goes down... suddenly everyone's interested."

"Damian, I don't think violence solves anything," Dillon piped in, "and I personally don't think you should go over there, but if you do, we're coming with you."

Damian turned his attention back to the arched entrance. "Well if you're coming, then come on."


	8. Part 2 f Kill: Win the Struggle

Maxie smiled thinly and slowly relaxed as the trio led by Damian came into view.

Logan seemed relieved as well that the waiting was over. Only Lulu tensed even more. She bitterly regretted her small role in provoking the situation.

Logan spoke as the newcomers arrived at the foot of the stairs. "What are you two doing here?"

Dillon shrugged and nervously looked at the ground. Cassius smiled and gestured at the girls. "Looks like you brought two witnesses, so fair is fair."

Logan shrugged. "Just don't get involved."

"Don't m-m-make us," Dillon stammered in a squeaky voice.

Cassius smirked and elbowed Dillon. "Yeah, you're a real tough guy," he said in a low voice that only the three of them could hear.

Dillon turned a little red after glancing up at LuLu. "It sounded cooler in my head."

Damian looked back at his two companions and made a curt gesture as if to say, _wait here_.

He ascended the stairs slowly, circling to keep Logan and the two blond girls in view.

Logan watched his progress coldly. "You ready for this?"

Damian reached the top of the stairs. He stood just out of Logan's reach. His gaze sought out Maxie's slight, rigid frame. The petite blond smiled at him, and her expression was filled with contempt. He looked at LuLu, who appeared pale and ill- she wouldn't meet his gaze.

Logan stepped forward and threw his fist out in a straight jab. Damian snapped his attention to his opponent just in time to duck away from most of the force behind the sudden punch. Still, the blow glanced from his left cheek, sending him reeling back a few steps.

"You'd better stop looking at her, and pay attention!" Logan hissed. He followed his smaller opponent, pressing the attack.

At the foot of the stairs, Cassius and Dillon had their eyes glued to the action. "I don't know if I can watch this," Dillon whispered. "Logan's going to kill him."

Cassius, who was remembering his earlier glimpse of Damian's surprising physique, wasn't smiling anymore. "Maybe, but I wouldn't put all my money on the favorite just yet. Sometimes long-shots pay off."

Logan smiled grimly as an upper cut drove into Damian's midsection. His smile vanished when Damian grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, using his own momentum against him. Suddenly Damian was behind him. Logan hadn't bothered to take off the light jacket he was wearing. He'd assumed the fight would be over in seconds. Now Damian used the jacket against him, pulling it tight to restrict his arms, he turned it partially inside-out, throwing it up over Logan's head. He used his superior balance and position to sling Logan around by the jacket, tripping him whenever he seemed about to regain his footing.

Before he knew what was happening, Logan had been slammed into one of the columns, his face ground into the unforgiving concrete. He had a hard time drawing in a breath. Suddenly new and horrendous pain assailed his senses as Damian leveled a series of fast, powerful punches into his kidneys. The pain shot down through his legs making them spasm and almost buckle. Everything had happened so fast that Logan was stunned, but now he got angry at the pain, the disorientation, and most of all the embarrassment. With a shout he pushed off of the column, forcing Damian back, who didn't have much room to maneuver between the concrete slabs. Logan spun, blindly lashing out with his elbow. He felt a primitive elation when it connected with flesh and he heard Damian grunt in pain.

The two young men separated by a few steps. Logan staggered once, then steadied himself. He angrily ripped off his jacket and tossed it aside. Damian crouched and glared at his opponent. A trickle of blood ran down the side of his face from a small bruised gash in his temple, and he blinked rapidly.

.

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LuLu stepped over to Maxie and grabbed her forearm. "Maxie, please! You can stop this!"

"Why is Logan playing with him?" Maxie asked, ignoring her friend's plea as if she hadn't heard.

.

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"Damn, the kid is quick!" Cassius muttered with some satisfaction.

"They look really serious," Dillon voiced his misgivings to no one in particular. "This is _messed up_."

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Logan took a step toward Damian but stopped as pain flared down his back. He gritted his teeth and cursed. He glanced over at Maxie who was watching expectantly, her face flushed. He looked back to his opponent and was surprised to see a cold and alien fury burning in his now baleful green eyes. Damian's bloodied face was so drawn and grim as to be almost unrecognizable.

"Damn you both for making me do this!" Logan spat out the words under his breath.

Damian didn't seem to catch the bitter statement. "You want to be a soldier?" he asked.

Logan lunged and Damian sprang into motion, ducking under Logan's powerful blow and delivering his own punch precisely to the larger man's solar plexus. Logan stopped in his tracks and wheezed for air. Instantly Damian was behind him, one sinewy forearm snaked around Logan's neck. Damian locked his hands and his forearms bulged as he applied unyielding force. Logan tried to turn, tried to throw his attacker off, but Damian held on and moved with him, glaring over Logan's shoulder with slitted eyes, his mouth a strained, determined line.

A spray of spittle flew from Logan's lips. His quickly reddening face was a mask of pain. He could breathe, but the choke hold was cutting off the blood flow to his head. For Logan, the world began to dim. He could just make out the pale, blurred form of Maxie and he desperately reached out, hand and splayed fingers extended, but she was distant- unreachable. Logan heard Damian's voice whispering in his ear.

"You underestimate the enemy, you come unprepared, and you fight with half a heart. I warned you- that's no way to _fight_! You're no soldier." Logan's legs buckled and he crashed to his knees. His arm fell limply to his side.

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.

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LuLu was appalled by what she was witnessing. She bolted past Maxie and ran to the two inter-locked young men. "Stop!" She screamed at Damian, but he didn't respond. He continued to apply the relentless choke-hold. Logan's eyes were white. LuLu grabbed desperately at Damian's forearm, trying with all of her strength to break his grip. "You're killing him!"

Cassius charged up the stairs, with Dillon right behind him. "Shaggy, it's over!" Cassius yelled. "Let the man go, okay? You made your point, man!"

Dillon grabbed Logan's arm and tried to help pull him away.

Suddenly Damian released his hold and stepped back. Logan pitched forward and LuLu, Cassius, and Dillon struggled to catch him. Together the three lowered him to the stairs, where he lay almost motionless for a few moments, his arms and legs skewed at a disturbing angle.

"Is he okay?" Lulu asked frantically.

"He's breathing," Dillon answered. Cassius just shook his head silently, his normally cheerful face was set in sad lines.

"He'll be fine," Damian said. He bent over with his hands on his knees and took a few deep lungfuls of air. The furious determination that had possessed him moments before was gone. His head throbbed; his arms felt weak. Every time he sucked in a breath pain bloomed in his stomach. His fingers felt raw and a couple felt dislocated because of the vice-like grip he had applied to Logan's jacket and the violent thrashing that had ensued. With his good hand he pulled the two injured fingers forward and back into place with an audible pop. Damian felt a surge of nausea and resisted the urge to throw up.

The fight had lasted less than three minutes.

Logan groaned and began to stir. The three others crowded around him in concern.

Damian straightened and looked at Maxie, who still stood in the same spot , her bloodless face as white and blank as an unsoiled sheet of typing paper. "Was this as much fun as you thought it would be?" he asked her.

Maxie suddenly walked over toward him, and with a tiny shrill cry threw her hand out to slap him, but Damian avoided her easily. He turned and almost casually walked away into the park. He was immediately lost to view among the trees.

Maxie stood quivering from a turmoil of emotions. She watched as the three others helped Logan to a sitting position. His head was in his hands.

"Hey man, are you okay?" Cassius asked Logan. He rubbed one hand on Logan's shoulder.

Dillon knelt on the next step down from him. "You need some water?" he asked, though no one had thought to bring any.

"Should we take you somewhere?" Lulu asked, and bit her lip in concern.

"I'm all right," Logan croaked. His voice got stronger as he spoke. "My head's just pounding, but it's getting better." He thought back to his opponent's tactics- the way Damian had manipulated him using his own jacket, the precision of the choke hold that had taken him down in seconds. "He knew what he was doing," he muttered. It had never once occurred to Logan that Damian might best him in a fight. Now he realized that he had been completely out of his depth. He felt the rise of shame- not for losing a brawl, but for his own arrogance. He burst into a choking laughter at the foolishness of it all.

"I guess I failed big time! Maxie, I'm sorry." For some reason he couldn't suppress a rueful grin. LuLu sighed in relief, and Dillon and Cassius began to relax a bit. Logan struggled to his feet with the others occasionally reaching out a hand to steady him. All four of them turned to look at the top of the stairs, and Logan's grin faded. The area was empty. Maxie was gone.

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	9. Part 2 g Another Sun

LuLu wandered through the park, vaguely directing her steps toward home. The small group had broken up quickly without much else being said. LuLu had volunteered to text Maxie, but Logan had insisted on finding her on his own. LuLu still couldn't believe that her friend had simply vanished, abandoning her 'boyfriend' when he was down. LuLu had always done her best to ignore the sharp edges that Maxie exuded, to tolerate her moods and biting words, accepting her role in Maxie's shadow.

The day's events made her re-examine everything. Thoughts ricocheted through her mind leaving bright flaring trails of emotion and confusion in their wake. Suddenly she stopped- the activity of her thoughts and her footsteps came to an abrupt halt.

The unusual young man, Damian, sat in the grass beside the path. He was pressing a sleeve to his temple and picking at blades of grass with his free hand. LuLu could tell that he was lost in thought and hadn't noticed her approach. She raised her chin and strode over to him.

"You sure left in a hurry. Logan could have been seriously hurt you know?"

Damian looked up at her with large troubled eyes. His unlined face looked innocent, almost cherubic in the evening light. LuLu was struck by how young he looked now, not much more than a boy.

"But he wasn't. He's strong." He winced involuntarily. "That elbow of his almost took me out."

LuLu sighed and stepped closer, kneeling next to him. "Let me see," she ordered.

Damian obediently lowered his arm and there was a small tearing sound as fabric separated from dried blood and skin. LuLu grimaced as she examined the blood-stained lump and shallow cut on Damian's temple. Some of his brown hair had become matted and stuck to the surrounding skin.

"Oh... ew..." LuLu whispered. "Does it hurt?"

Damian just looked at her incredulously.

"Okay, dumb question," she conceded. She opened her purse and began looking through it's contents. "I think I have a washcloth in... ah, here it is." She extracted a white cloth, folded it and began to move it toward Damian's battered temple. She stopped and glanced around. "Um... it's dry and there's not a fountain in this part of the park. Maybe you should spit on this? Unless you want me to?"

"Be my guest," Damian said.

LuLu turned her head so the young man couldn't see and pressed the cloth to her lips, wetting it.

She turned back and slowly, and awkwardly moved the cloth into position and began dabbing the blood and matted hair with an uncertain hand. "Oh... okay... well..." she said quietly as she worked, "..._this_ is weird."

Damian winced at her touch but then a small smile stretched his lips. Their faces drew closer as LuLu concentrated. "I bet you never thought this is the way you'd be spending your evening?" He asked.

"Wiping my spit on someone's face?" LuLu chuckled and Damian's smile widened. Suddenly they both broke out into soft but unrestrained laughter. LuLu found herself looking into his green eyes inches from her own. They held no hostility, or even tension. For the first time Damian's gaze was relaxed and open.

"I've never seen you smile," LuLu said. "Not that I've been watching you or anything..." She broke eye contact and looked down, suddenly embarrassed.

"I've never seen you smile either," Damian said quietly. His usual monotone was softer, making his voice sound younger. "Not for the right reasons."

LuLu settled down beside him on the grass. Her face looked troubled once again. "I'm sorry about that. About the way we act sometimes. I don't know why things have to be that way. I'm not a cruel person."

She remembered the look on Logan's face when he realized that Maxie had gone. "I'm not like Maxie, not really."

"But you want to be," Damian stated.

LuLu's brow creased and she struggled to find the right words to explain. "Maxie is beautiful, rich, confident and in control. All the guys want her and all the girls want to _be_ her."

"You're every bit as beautiful," Damian pointed out. He said it in a matter-of-fact tone, but LuLu blushed slightly anyway. "And you have family that cares about you?"

"Yes," LuLu said with a smile,"my dad and my brother are the best! Even though they don't get along with each other. My mom too, but she's been away for a long time. But I visit her and we talk every few days."

"Then I think you are probably already richer than your friend," Damian said quietly.

"Corny much?" she asked with a grin.

Damian pulled up a blade of grass and ran it through his fingers. "Too Disney?"

"It's okay," LuLu said between small peals of laughter, " I like some of that stuff."

"Like Cinderella?"

LuLu shook her head. "That's old school and too girly. But seriously, this stuff has been going around in my head today. I don't think what you've done was right, exactly, but at least you stood up to her. Why do I always end up following her around? Why am I scared not to fit in? I try to do everything the way I'm supposed to, but I always end up in the background and no one notices me." The smile and the laughter were gone. "Or I'm a big joke, like with Diego and the intercom."

LuLu wondered why she was exposing herself to this newcomer. She could never have imagined that talking to him would be like this.

Damian let the blade of grass flutter to the ground.

"Imagine for a second that I could reach out and put another sun into the sky." He raised a hand and gestured toward the sun which hung low and orange-red in the sky.

"Um, okay,"LuLu responded with an uncertain grin.

"Now if I placed it perfectly behind the one that's already there- who would know? Maybe you are too busy trying to be something that you're not. The world already has one Maxie, trust me, two is overkill." He thought about Dillon and the way he always reacted to LuLu. "People notice you, but they aren't interested in what another clone of Maxie is going to do. Everyone knows that formula already. They want to know who _you_ are." He turned his head and gazed at her intently, his eyes half shrouded by his unruly hair. "_I_ want to know... who is LuLu Spencer?"

Their eyes met and they sat quietly for a few moments, the impending sunset engulfing them in a world of dark orange, red and long black shadows. Finally LuLu spoke. "If I figure it out, I'll let you know. Everyone has different sides to them, you know? I'm really mad at Maxie right now, but she isn't all bad. Sometimes she's a really good friend. And you... at work you're all distant and quiet. No offense, but you act like an emotionless robot! I wonder how many people get to see you like I am now?" She smiled tentatively and turned his earlier question back on him. "Who is Damian Spinelli?"

Damian's expression became a little more guarded and the orange glow reflected in his eyes.

"The person you described from work? That _is_ me." He stood and walked a few steps over to some exposed dirt. "Have a look at this." LuLu got to her feet and followed after brushing herself off. She followed Damian's gaze and saw a small ascending cone of uniform dirt pebbles surrounded by lines of tiny, busy insectile figures. An anthill.

"This, right here, is a whole community- a whole world unto itself," Damian stated.

"A world within our world, right under our feet," LuLu mused.

Damian cocked his head and looked at her with an arched brow.

"What?" She asked with a laugh. "I can't have a philosophical thought? I'm only obsessed with shallow crap between the hours of eight to five, and I'm off the clock."

She could have sworn that Damian smirked. "Right," he continued. "There _are_ worlds within worlds. Everywhere. But these guys, they don't know that. There are thousands of them only aware of _their_ reality and their place in it. They're busy fulfilling their missions, and will be their whole lives. They've got their queen, she's made it to the top and no one is going to take her place. Most of these guys are workers- drones. They serve the queen, take her orders without question. They build, bring food, do everything at her whim, and they never take one step outside of their established, programmed lives. Their job is to maintain the status quo." He shook his head and stretched his arms out. "They never once look up and become aware of the vastness that surrounds them. They never see the horizon, they have no idea how tiny, how vulnerable they really are."

He lowered his arms and looked back at LuLu. "They have soldiers too, that fight and die without hesitation to protect the hive. But their efforts are really only going to matter against another, rival colony that might decide it wants this territory. They can't really do anything about the bigger threats." Damian inched his shoe closer to the small hill as he spoke, and the tiny figures increased their pace, swarming around the sole of his shoe and the pyramidal dirt cone frantically. LuLu watched and listened, not sure how to take this sudden nature lesson.

"And sometimes... a soldier ant from a rival colony will find a way to penetrate a hive. They do everything by smell and touch, so if he can find a way to disguise himself with their smell, he might be accepted into their world. Of course at any second his cover could get blown and the rival soldiers will tear him to pieces, but he doesn't care. See, he has a mission, and like I already said, with these little guys that's all that matters."

"What's his mission then? What's that important.?" LuLu was curious now in spite of herself.

Damian looked at her, his face was blank once again, his eyes unreadable. "Gain access, get close... and kill the queen."

LuLu shook her head slowly. The answer didn't seem right somehow. "But why? It just seems mean and cruel."

"Because there's always a war going on, or one about to start, and war is as cruel as it gets," Damian replied, and his voice almost sounded sad. "With the queen dead, the colony has no one to issue orders. It falls into chaos and an army from outside sweeps in and takes them out quickly. Then they can take the hive, all of the work that these guys did, and use it for themselves."

"You've got a strange mind," LuLu observed. "This is cool I guess in a Discovery Channel kind of way, but why are you telling me this?"

Damian shrugged, but his green eyes watched LuLu closely.

"It's funny I guess," LuLu said slowly as she watched the tiny creatures at work, "if you think of the Shop 'n' Save as an anthill, it would be easy to see Maxie as a queen... and that makes me, and most of my friends, little worker ants." She frowned as she thought about this.

Damian smiled thinly. "A whole bunch of ants scurrying around, worried about a lot of things, a lot of problems that seem huge, but are really very small. Misusing their senses, never looking up, never sensing the bigger picture." He peered at LuLu intently, and his tone gained a sense of urgency. "Today your friends got just a small glimpse of something they could never imagine before- the horizon. The world that they control, that they have assumed is everything, isn't as big as they thought it was. And there could be something infinitely bigger and more dangerous that could stumble along and crush it all without a second thought..." Now Damian slowly lifted his foot and held it over the anthill, as if about to bring it down and grind the tiny creatures into the earth.

"No!" LuLu exclaimed. Damian withdrew his foot and looked at her. She glared at him in consternation. "You can't tell me all of that stuff about their world and then casually destroy it. That wouldn't be right! Just because we're bigger, it doesn't give us the right to step on them. Like you said- it's a whole community that's working hard to survive. I mean, I don't really like ants, especially at a picnic, but leave them alone, okay?"

Damian laughed, and for a few more seconds the blank mask of his face was broken by a warm smile that reached his eyes. "Sure. Settle down! You said you aren't a cruel person... I believe you. You see, you're already different than some of your friends."

LuLu sighed and then returned the smile. She noticed it was really getting dark. "I have to get home."

Damian nodded. They stood for a few seconds in a silence that suddenly felt a bit awkward. "Can I walk with you?" Damian finally asked..

"I don't know, _can_ you?"

Damian didn't react to the joke. "_I guess the robot is back_," LuLu thought. She shrugged. "Sure, if you want."

.

.

Twenty minutes later the duo approached a two-story house on an isolated lot of a quiet street.

"This is it," LuLu said. "Told you it wasn't too far."

Damian examined the structure. "Nice place."

"It's kind of big for just my dad and me. My mom is away, but I keep hoping she'll be able to come back soon."

Something about the way she said 'away' triggered an echo of recognition for Damian. He knew that LuLu's mother probably wasn't on vacation or traveling for work. It was some other far more serious form of exile.

LuLu took a couple of steps toward the house ahead of Damian then turned to look back at him. "Thanks for walking with me. I hope your head is okay."

"It'll be fine, thanks."

"Still, you should put something on it..."

Damian shrugged.

"I'm going to go in. My dad is probably wondering where I've been." LuLu hesitated for a second or two and then continued. "Damian, be careful. I don't know if Maxie is going to let this go. She has a lot of friends. I'll talk to her, but she hasn't been listening to me. Please, just don't do anything else to provoke her, okay?"

Damian looked at her for a few moments, and just when she thought he wasn't going to respond, he spoke quietly. "I'll do what I can."

The answer was less than LuLu had hoped for, but she realized that it was the best she was likely to get for now. "It was nice talking to you. If you ever need someone to talk to..."

"I know where you live," Damian stated.

"Right," LuLu said with a small laugh. "Have a good night."

"Good night," Damian said in return and then turned to leave.

"Hey Damian!" LuLu called out to him after he had taken only a few steps. Damian looked back and in the darkness could just make out LuLu's silhouette like a halo of muted gold surrounded by increasing darkness. Somehow he could sense that she was smiling.

"Yes?"

"We were talking about everyone being like ants. You never said what kind of ant _you_ would be."

"What kind do you think I am?" Damian asked. He squinted and could just make out LuLu's thin, blurred shape. Her long blond tresses reflected what little light there was emanating from the distant porch. She must have been stepping back slowly toward the house- when she spoke her voice was further away.

"I think you're a soldier," she said, and then she was gone.


	10. Part 2 h Say Yes to Intimacy

Almost an hour later, Damian walked up the driveway past a modest two-story home. He approached the free-standing garage situated a little behind the main house and ascended a wooden staircase built onto the side. He fished a key out of his pocket and opened the door at the top. He stepped into an expansive finished loft built onto the top of the garage. The loft had a bathroom, main room with a fold-out sofa bed, and a kitchen area adjacent to the main room, complete with a small refrigerator and a microwave.

The only remarkable feature of the loft could be found on the walls and ceiling of the main room which doubled as a bedroom. They had been painted with a bizarre mosaic of symbols and figures- everything from crosses to patterns that resembled ancient hieroglyphs. The back wall was a panorama of a huge pyramid rising from a jungle and draped in shadows- partially illuminated by a full moon. Human figures could be made out on the various levels of the pyramid standing in ritualistic poses. The first time Damian had seen the wall painting, it had both intrigued and disturbed him. Something about the panorama and the half-seen human figures implied conflict and ritualistic violence. It was an unsettling work.

Damian switched on the lights and stepped into the kitchen. He examined his hands which were still throbbing painfully, noting that two fingers on his right hand were a little swollen. He rummaged through the kitchen and refrigerator and made a small ice pack. For a couple of minutes he pressed the pack to his temple with his injured hand, enjoying the cold numbing sensation.

Damian picked up an apple from the kitchen counter with his free hand and brought it to his lips and then froze. It had suddenly struck him that something was wrong. He turned and looked across the kitchen and into the adjacent main room where the sofa-bed was unfolded. The bed was not as he had left it that morning. The sheet had been rearranged, and he noted the outline of what almost had to be a human figure under it. From where he stood, it looked like a corpse had been laid at the foot of the pyramid.

Damian's senses shifted to high alert. He placed the ice pack and apple back on the counter. Carefully he slipped his tennis shoes off, then quietly slid open a kitchen drawer and retrieved a long butcher knife. Damian slowly made his way across the room, his shoeless feet gliding silently. He approached the bed and could clearly see now a dark shape shrouded under the fabric. Steeling himself, Damian raised the knife in one hand and with the other reached down and quickly pulled the sheet away.

The body of a young woman lay on the bed- she was fully clothed and lay on her back with her arms folded across her chest. Her eyes were closed and she didn't seem to be breathing. Her skin was pale, the flowing locks of hair that pooled around her head were black, as were her clothes and the make-up that adorned her eyes and lips.

A shock of recognition hit Damian then. This was the elusive girl in black. The same girl he had caught glimpses of at the Shop 'n' Save and the park. Damian's thoughts raced- how had she gotten here? What happened to her? He looked at her still form more closely but could see no signs of life. He felt the sharp bite and spike of unexpected grief. He slowly reached out with his empty hand toward her cheek. His fingertips were an inch from her skin when the girl's eyes snapped open, her gaze immediately locking on to his. Damian jumped back and dropped the knife to the floor in shock. The girl let out a loud breath, and then sucked in air. She sat up and regarded Damian with large brown eyes that were full of amusement. Damian gaped at her.

"You should see the look on your face!" The girl exclaimed with a wide smile. She began to laugh. "I was wondering if you were ever going to come over here. It felt like I held my breath forever! Did I scare the crap out of you? I bet you thought I was dead. Did I really look dead?"

Damian willed his heart to slow down. The shock was wearing off and irritation and anger were replacing it. "Yes, I thought you were dead. How did you get in here?"

"That's so cool! I let myself in," the girl replied vaguely. She hurried on excitedly. "Were you thinking about stabbing me with that knife you dropped- you know if I had been a dangerous intruder or something?"

"No, I wasn't, but I'm considering it now," Damian replied acidly. His green eyes flashed in annoyance.

The girl in black had seemed like a grand mystery to him before- strange, aloof and untouchable, yet somehow compellingly familiar. He had thought about finding her, meeting her finally. He had never imagined it going quite like this.

The girl smirked at him. "Don't be such a prissy little bitch! It was just a joke, and a pretty good one if I say so myself."

Damian's eyes narrowed, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Who are you and what do you want? This is supposed to be _my_ place!"

The girl seemed unperturbed by Damian's less than enthusiastic reception. "Well turn-a bout's fair play. The stairs in the park- you know where you choked the holy hell out of that guy Logan today? Yeah that's right, I watched the whole thing from behind some trees. Anyway, those stairs are _my_ place. That's where I go to think things over, to relax and meditate, and sometimes work on sketches. For some reason that part of the park feels peaceful to me... like I'm closer to some kind of fundamental spiritual essence there. You know what I'm talking about?"

Damian didn't. He thought it might be safest to keep his mouth shut for the moment. The girl in black took his silence as some form of agreement. She nodded her head. "Besides, this loft used to be my room, so this was my place too before it was yours. Thus the spare key! As for who I am- I'm Georgianna Jones. I've tried to go by Anna, because it's beautiful and elegant, and I bet I look like an Anna to you, don't I? The thing is, my family has always called me Georgie, and that stuck and that's pretty much what my friends call me, so I guess that's what you should call me too."

Damian stared at her.

"Um, it's rude not to introduce yourself," Georgie prodded him.

Damian cleared his throat. "I'm D-"

"Damian Spinelli," she cut him off. "Yes I know." She stood and stretched luxuriously and then began to slowly pace toward him. Damian became aware of the curves of her body, the lustrous shine of her dark hair, the moist pout of her lips. The instant fascination that he had felt upon seeing her for the first time across the Shop 'n Save back lot resurfaced even as his aggravation receded. "I saw your name on the information you gave my mother when you rented this room from her." She came closer. Without realizing it, Damian backed against the wall. A symbol that resembled the sun was on the wall over his shoulder. Georgie followed, and her face hovered inches before his own. Her brown eyes stared unabashedly, openly into his.

"I guess I've kind of been keeping an eye out for you, ever since you moved in here. Do you know why?" She was so close that her warm breath caressed his neck and chin. Damian slowly shook his head, never taking his eyes from hers. "Because from the first moment I saw you it was like someone reached inside me and plucked a guitar string that I didn't even know was there. It's been vibrating... resonating ever since." Georgie raised her left hand and without thinking, Damian raised and placed his injured right hand flat against it.

"You feel it, don't you?" she asked in a throaty whisper.

"I feel... something."

"You asked me earlier what I want. I want you to be a good host and make some of that green tea you have in your pantry for us." Georgie reached up and with her right index finger traced a line from the bruise on Damian's temple, down his cheek and then lightly across his lips. "We can have some tea, talk, and... if you want to, we could make out. Not necessarily in that order. Sound like a plan?"

Damian's heart hammered in his chest, and he couldn't bring himself to look away from Georgie's beautiful eyes.

_Not necessarily in that order_. It sounded like a plan.

.

.

Logan climbed out of his 68 Mustang and stepped into the darkened street. He had failed to find Maxie, and after the day he had experienced the failures were beginning to sting. He had cruised by the gated drive in front of her father's house, but had seen no sign of her. The windows of her room were dark.

He checked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time and experienced the same dull stab of disappointment when he confirmed that Maxie had yet to return his messages.

He crossed the street and began to approach his apartment building, trying to dismiss the nagging worries that hounded him.

"Are you all right?"

The small voice triggered warring feelings of relief and anger in Logan's tightening chest. He turned to see Maxie step tentatively into a street lamp's circle of light. The haunted look in her wide blue eyes tipped the scales in Logan's heart.

"I'm fine. Just worried about you." Logan wanted to assail her with questions, but the breath died in his throat.

"I'm sorry," Maxie said as a small sob escaped her lips. Her eyes welled and glistened with unshed tears. "It wasn't supposed to happen like that. I just wanted to teach him a lesson. No one... you weren't supposed to get hurt!"

Logan hurried to her and took her slight, quivering frame in his arms.

"Maxie, I'm fine," he murmured and kissed her hair. Maxie raised her arms and returned his embrace, clinging to him tightly.

"I'm sorry I ran away. I was just so humiliated. I couldn't have you look at me. Not after what you went through because of me. Why do I do these things? I should have listened to you and LuLu!"

"Yeah, maybe you should have. So listen to me now, okay? This is just drama! No one was seriously hurt. It wasn't that big a deal, and now it's over. You wanted to teach him a lesson- well maybe he's not the only one who needed to learn one. You can't keep pushing all of the time. Sometimes you have to relax and let the petty stuff go."

"I know."

"Do you? It's over. It _is_ over, isn't it Maxie?"

She finally nodded against his chest.

"You can't keep testing people all of the time. When are you going to realize that you can lean on me? I've got you girl. I'm not going anywhere."

"Why do you stick with me?"

"You always give me a reason to come back. I..." Logan's voice trailed off. He found that he couldn't say what he wanted to. To vocalize the words would bring a moment that he dreaded closer to reality. The moment that Maxie would have no real heartfelt words with which to respond.

Maxie quivered against him as small sobs racked her body. "I miss my sister!"

"Why don't you go and talk to her tomorrow?"

"She doesn't want anything to do with me! She hates me, and I deserve it. I've been so terrible to her. Even from before our parents divorce."

Logan held her closer and rubbed her back comfortingly. "You know, she shuts you out the same way you shut your mom out. Maybe if you gave your mom another chance, it would help mend fences with all three of you?"

Maxie stiffened against him, and Logan knew that he was pushing too far. "Listen, let me take you home. You get some sleep and everything is going to look better tomorrow."

Maxie sniffed, stepped back and rubbed her eyes. "How can you say that? You're going to have to go back to work tomorrow and everyone will be talking about what happened. And it's all my fault. I'm sure that jerk Damian can't wait to boast about winning the fight."

"I don't think so," Logan disagreed. "That's not what he's about. Besides Maxie, I don't give a damn about losing a stupid fight. I'm fighting for you... for us. That's the only fight I care about right now."

A tear streaked down one porcelain cheek. "Logan I... I'm sorry. I messed up. Like I always do."

"You want to make it up to me? Let me make you dinner tomorrow night. No arguing with the chef about the menu either!" Logan smiled.

Maxie broke into a grin in return. "Please tell me it's not going to be more meat on the barbeque?"

"Of course sweetheart! Maybe burgers Texas style! The Giambetti's just got in some prime Angus. It'll be great, trust me!"

Maxie grimaced but then broke into sniffling giggles. She dried her tears on her sleeve and then reached out to touch Logan's forearm. The gaze she turned on him was full of appreciation. "I do," she said in a quiet voice. "Trust you."

_"But you don't love me,"_ Logan thought. He strove to keep the thought from showing on his face, and he smiled and gave Maxie a strong arm to hold onto even as despair threatened to sink his heart.

"Let's get you home."


	11. Part 2 i Living Dead Girl

"I was wondering how you knew that my mom was going to rent this place," Georgie murmured close to Damian's ear. They were lying on the bed- the sheet was bundled and forgotten on the floor along with various articles of clothing, most of them black. There were two cups of green tea close by on a chair and a ceramic plate that held half of one last thin slice of apple. Georgie popped the other half into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Damian moved his head away slightly and reflexively scratched his ear with the hand that wasn't trapped under Georgie's body.

"Am I chewing in your ear?" she asked with a giggle. "Maybe I should be doing this instead?" She leaned closer and lightly raked her teeth across his earlobe making him laugh. "Seriously, this would be so much better with some chocolate sauce- the apple, not your ear. That might be an idea though-"

"I don't eat stuff like that," Damian cut her off, grinning. He had already learned that sometimes he just had to interrupt her if he wanted to get a word in.

"What, fun stuff? Stuff that's yummy?" She traced the edge of his ear with a mischievous fingertip for emphasis as she spoke.

"Cut it out," Damian pleaded, laughing again. "No junk food. Nothing processed. I'm not allowed."

"Not allowed?" Georgie scoffed. "I don't see anyone else here keeping tabs on what you're doing. Which is good since you only need one stalker," she added with a wicked smile.

"It's part of the Mission," he stated, and his tone changed- it carried an undercurrent of urgency. "I have to be in a certain physical condition. I have to be ready."

Georgie leaned back and propped her head on her hand as if to get a good look at Damian. "Mission? Are you Jehovah's Witness or something?" She grinned wickedly. "Or maybe you're in a cult. Do you believe a comet is coming that's going to take you to Disney World? Did I just sleep with an escaped mental patient? Tell me if I did, because I'd just _have_ to introduce you to my father. It might be fun to watch the rest of his hair turn gray!"

Damian's good humor had vanished. He turned his head away from her and stared at the symbols painted on the wall. "It's not like that. It's hard to explain. Besides, I didn't escape... I was released."

Georgie's eyes narrowed as she watched him. "Did you just make a joke? I like a guy with a good sense of humor," she said and cuddled closer to him. She reached over and took his chin in her hand and pulled lightly, turning his head back to face her. She kissed his neck and trailed her lips up to his chin, seeking his mouth. Her warm breath blazed a trail as she progressed, raising goosebumps on his pale skin. Her hand slipped up into his hair, her searching fingers entangled in his tousled brown locks. "But don't worry," she continued breathlessly, "I like you too."

The strong arm under her body tensed, and he lifted her on top of him. Her hair cascaded down over his face as their kisses deepened and attained an escalating rhythmic tension. They forgot about conversation for a while.

"As I was saying," Georgie spoke as she caught her breath, "I remember my mom saying that she was surprised the add for this place had made it into the newspaper so fast. She didn't think anything of it, but I checked. The day you came over and she showed you the loft- the add wasn't running yet. So how did you know?"

Damian sighed and gestured toward the cups of tea. Georgie reached over and grabbed one for him. He gratefully took it from her and took a long drink. He balanced the glass on his bare chest. "I was told to come here," he said cryptically.

Georgie lay back on the bed and resisted the urge to pinch him. "You know traditionally an answer to a question contains at least some tiny bit of actual useful information."

Damian sighed. "I don't know how to explain it in a way that will make sense to you." He ran one finger around the rim of the glass on his chest. "You'll just be more convinced that I'm a crazy person."

"What, did a dog tell you?" Georgie inquired with a giggle. "Look you knew something you shouldn't have known, but you were right about it. Maybe you're crazy, but you are also accurate!"

Damian didn't laugh. He looked worried by her statement.

"Okay, I guess I'll have to show you that you aren't the only one who can sound crazy while trying to explain something," Georgie continued in a light tone. "Have you ever gotten the feeling that something was just supposed to happen? I'm lying here with you, and we just met- but somehow I don't believe that. I don't feel awkward with you at all. It's like I already knew you from somewhere. Someplace that I can't quite recall."

Damian stiffened as she spoke. He stared at the ceiling as Georgie's soft voice carried on, her breath caressing his neck with every utterance. "For some reason I trust you. I know that I can tell you my secrets, my most 'out there' thoughts, and I'll be safe. You can do the same you know?" She ducked her head and smiled against his shoulder. "When you touched me, it was like I suddenly realized that a part of me has been sad for a long time- so long that I got used to it, and didn't even realize it anymore. But suddenly it was gone, and I recognized it by it's absence." She laughed quietly. "I'm experiencing a profound absence of sadness."

Damian shifted, and his hand found hers. "You're right," he said softly, "you do sound crazy."

Georgie burst into laughter and for several seconds she tried to tickle Damian, who deftly blocked her attempts while simultaneously protecting his cup of tea from a spill. Finally they settled back down. Georgie rolled free of him and sat up, shifting her legs over the side of the bed. Damian admired the sensuous curve of her back as she tossed her hair. Georgie retrieved a sheet from the floor and wrapped it around her bare frame.

"You don't have to say anything, but I've seen it in your eyes. Recognition. We had a connection from the first moment we saw each other."

Damian swallowed the last of the tea and set his cup aside. "Like rediscovering a long lost friend," He agreed.

Georgie glanced over her shoulder at him and arched an eyebrow. "If that's what you want to call it. You know, just because we slept together, I don't expect anything from you. We both wanted this tonight, but that doesn't mean you have to feel the same way tomorrow. I would like us to be friends no matter what."

Damian wasn't sure how to respond, so he decided to try to change the subject. "You said this used to be your room?"

Georgie looked away from him. "Yes. My mom brought my grandmother to live with us for a while a few years ago. She took me and my sister's old room in the house, and I jumped at the chance to have my own private space. Later my grandmother left, and my sister decided to go live with our dad, so now there's plenty of room in the house for just me and my mom." Georgie walked over to the nearest wall and placed a hand sporting black polished fingernails on one of the symbols. "Do you like my mural?"

Damian sat up and examined the wall paintings again. "You did all of this?"

"Yes," she acknowledged quietly.

"It's amazing," Damian told her, "but I'm not sure that 'like' is the right word."

Georgie sighed. "You're honest. That's good. I did this whole room while I was high... a long time ago. I don't even remember painting most of this." She looked back at Damian. "Does that bother you?"

Damian was silent, and his eyes were hooded.

"This," she continued with a sweeping gesture toward the pyramid that dominated the biggest wall, "is my rendition of Teotihuacan - the feathered serpent pyramid of the Aztecs. They believed that the sun was in a constant battle to cross the sky, and that every fifty two years this war would reach a critical point that could bring down a cataclysm to end the world. They used Teotihuacan to give blood back to the sun god and to placate the god of death."

"How did they manage that?" Damian asked as he took in the sight of artist and work together.

"Sacrifice..." she intoned, and her voice held a dream-like quality, "..._human_ sacrifice, actually."

Damian slid off the bed and pulled his pants on. He reached down and retrieved the butcher knife from the floor.

"Young people mostly. Some experts think they killed them in the thousands. I wonder what it would feel like as you were taken to be sacrificed? If you would feel honored to die to help save something, or if the fear and dread would overwhelm you as each step up the pyramid brought you closer to your own murder. Can you imagine?"

Damian stepped into the kitchen and placed the knife in the sink. He turned the water on and let the flow fill his hands before splashing the water on his face. The cool liquid ran in rivulets down his neck and chest. "No. And the symbols?"

Georgie turned and looked at him. The sheet shrouded her body. "References to death and the underworld from different cultures and religions." She took a few swaying steps, hindered a bit by the trailing sheet, and reached out to touch the depiction of five figures on an adjacent wall. "These guys, for instance. This is Anubis and his four minions. They are part man, part jackal. The ancient Egyptians believed that Anubis guarded the land of the dead- that he judged the departed souls and decided where they should be placed in the afterlife." She traced one slim finger along the profile of the largest figure. It had the body of a man and the head of a black dog. "If a soul resisted it's placement, if it managed to slip out of the underworld, these four would be sent out to track it down and return it... or if that failed they would simply devour it."

Damian stepped out of the kitchen and stopped a few feet from his companion. The remaining drops of water began to dry on his upper body, making a cool, uneven sensation across his skin. He felt a small shiver, and his shoulders tensed slightly. "Five and two," he said.

Georgie tilted her head a bit. "What?"

"The symbols," Damian continued with a nod of his head toward the ceiling and walls. "There's a pattern. They are all in groups of five and two."

Georgie's eyes widened as she directed her gaze around the painted area. She pulled the sheet tighter across her shoulders. "They are!" she confirmed in surprise. "How could I have never noticed? I was really out of it when I did most of this. It was almost like something else was directing my body." She took a breath to continue speaking but paused, as if considering whether or not to go on. She glanced at Damian and seemed to gain some kind of reassurance and resolve. "I don't do it anymore, but at the time I was injecting meth. It was a terrible mistake. It was kind of a low point, and I just wanted to get away, to get out of myself and feel something good."

"Injecting methamphetamine is very risky behavior. You could have killed yourself." Damian's tone was neutral, his face impassive.

"I know. That was part of the attraction. Imagine that you experience close to an ultimate euphoria, but when it's over your normal existence seems dull and painful by comparison. You know that you can get that feeling back anytime that you want by taking the drug over and over again. But doing that makes you an addict, and you give away control of your life."

Damian crossed the small room and stood in front of Georgie, listening. "To kick the addiction, you have to face and accept the fact that the best moment of your life is over, and you'll never get it back again. For me, it was like injecting meth was a whole new level. It was the greatest rush, the best feeling I've ever had. But I knew that it was a bad thing that I was doing to myself and my family, and that it wasn't even me that felt that good- it was all the drug. When I was straight I hated myself for wanting more, but I did... all the time. Sometimes, when I was really flying, really out there, I could sense that I was coming close to a wall- a barrier. And maybe beyond this wall was the ultimate high- one that would last. Part of me wanted to go through and embrace it."

Damian's gaze swept across the room, the sepulcher, the tribute to mortality, and back to it's creator. "Is that why?" he asked. "Why you are so in love with death?"

Georgie didn't answer immediately. She wandered back over to the bed and sat down. The sheet pooled around her. "There was a friend... a guy... a dealer... I thought he loved me, and maybe I thought I loved him. I don't know. He's the one that got me into drugs. He was the guy that always had stuff. Everyone knew that if they wanted something, they could go to him and he would always come through with the hook up. Anyway, he liked to get me so wasted that sometimes I wouldn't remember the things we did together. And I let him most of the time. One night he had a party, and I got high in his bedroom with him and one of his friends." She huddled under the sheet and rubbed her arms as if she had caught a chill. "They started to do things to me... it was all wrong. I told them no, but they didn't listen. I was so wasted that I couldn't do anything, and I didn't even feel in control of my own body. I begged him to stop, to make his friend stop, but it was like he couldn't hear me."

Damian stood very still as he listened to her quiet monologue, but his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Georgie stared at nothing as she continued, and her body shuddered as if recalling the hideous touch of a nightmare. "They... recorded the whole thing. On his computer. When they were finished, his friend left, and he passed out eventually. All I wanted to do was to go to sleep, to forget everything, and wake up and have it all be a dream. But the drugs wouldn't let me sleep. That night dragged on forever. I finally stole some of his stash and left. I left him. After that night he asked me to come back, told me how sorry he was, that it was the drugs, but I couldn't look at him anymore."

Georgie looked away and rubbed her face quickly with one edge of the sheet. "I got high a few more times- enough to paint this room, and then I quit. It wasn't easy. For months I kept a needle. When the craving got too bad, I would stick myself, just to get that feeling for a second. It seemed like it relieved some of the tension."

Damian exhaled slowly, and realized that he had been holding his breath. Although outwardly calm, a cold fury had been building up inside of him- racing like fire through his veins; the flames licking at his racing heart. He concentrated on calming himself. "I'm sorry you went through all of that."

Georgie shook her head. "I did it to myself."

"You made yourself vulnerable, but you didn't do those things to yourself that night- _they_ did. Who was he, this _friend_?"

Georgie hunched under the sheet and stared at the floor. "It doesn't matter."

Damian approached her and knelt on the floor looking up at her face. "You said we could tell each other our secrets."

Georgie shook her head. "Some secrets aren't just mine to tell. There were things about him that I cared about, before the bad stuff got involved. He wasn't a monster, but he let a monster in. It's over," she said and she met Damian's gaze with her own. "I don't want to see anything bad happen to him."

"You won't tell me who he is, so it must be someone I know, someone I've met here."

For once Georgie was silent.

"What about this recording?"

She shrugged. "As far as I know he still has it."

"Aren't you afraid that he'll do something with it- put it on the internet or something?"

She shook her head emphatically, but Damian noticed that she bit her lower lip at the thought.

"I don't think he will do anything like that. He seemed really ashamed after... and even if he does- so what? It is what it is." The last part of this statement struck Damian as a bit off, as if she was quoting a favorite statement from someone else- one that she didn't actually want to believe.

Georgie reached out and gently cupped Damian's chin in her soft, yielding hand. "I can fight my own battles. I'm not going to tell you who he is." Her brown eyes held an aching sadness now as they searched his face. "To people who judge things by the outside, who see only what they expect to see, you look harmless. But you aren't... are you?"

Damian met her gaze without flinching, but he volunteered nothing.

"I watched you nearly choke the life out of someone today. You were so focused that no one could stop you. You stopped yourself, but you didn't want to. You wanted to kill him, didn't you?"

Damian just looked at her, let her read the answer in his face.

"Damian... whatever your mission is, whatever demands you let it place on you... please... don't let a monster in."

She pulled him close and the sheer fabric slipped from her shoulders. They embraced tenderly. Damian rested his cheek against her hair and stared blankly at the grouped symbols on the wall with eyes that were haunted now.

He leaned back and pulled the sheet back into place over her nude body. "Are you staying?" he asked.

"For a while if you want me to. I'm an adult, and I can do what I want, but I don't want to make my mother worry. You must be tired, why don't you lie down for a bit?"

They both made themselves comfortable on the rough mattress of the pull-out bed. Georgie settled her head on Damian's chest and in the crook of his shoulder. She trailed her black nailed fingers down his chest and stomach, stopping to make light circles around the randomly spaced dark smudges on his skin left by her ebony lipstick. The lightest kisses had left marks that looked like bruises, the deepest like bullet holes. "It must be getting late," she said with a sigh.

_"Later than you know." _Damian didn't say the words out loud.


	12. Part 2 j The Infiltrator

Dillon was a bit shaken up after the confrontation in the park. He made his way several blocks across town to a parking garage where a steel blue Lexus awaited his arrival. He thought things over as he took the long route home, listening to the latest tracks from The White Keys.

Dillon didn't like or approve of violence of any kind, but it struck him as an especially heinous way to settle a petty social dispute. Damian had won the fight, but in Dillon's view no one had emerged victorious. Logan and Maxie had ended up miserable, and Damian had disappeared. He had received no victory celebration- no one had even patted him on the back. Dillon wondered why people would push for a violent solution to a problem when all of the outcomes were so ugly. He hoped that Damian was all right. He felt a twinge of guilt that no one had even checked to see if he was hurt.

He remembered how distraught LuLu had appeared as she anxiously watched the brawl, and then did her best to end it and help Logan. He could tell that she felt the same way that he did, and afterward he had wanted so badly to find some way to offer her comfort. To his frustration, all the words he wanted to say had stuck in his throat. He didn't think that she had even really noticed him at all.

It was later than he intended when he finally pulled the Lexus into the eight car garage adjoining the riverside mansion that was the home of the Quartermaine family. He turned off the motor but sat for several more minutes letting the music wash over him. Finally he removed the keys from the ignition, and after taking a deep breath, he grabbed a clipboard from the passenger seat, exited the car and made his way into the mansion.

Dillon hoped to get up to his room without being noticed by his family, but those hopes vanished as he crossed the foyer. His grandfather, Edward Quartermaine, called out to him from the living room. Dillon's footsteps muted as he stepped from the custom mahogany hardwood to rich carpeting. Thankfully, the old man was alone, sitting in his favorite chair with an open newspaper in his hands. "Evening Grandfather," Dillon greeted him with a deferential nod.

"Hello there my boy!" Edward answered warmly. "I haven't seen you for a few days, and you're getting home rather late. I trust all is well?"

Dillon smiled affectionately at the aged master of the family. "Sure, I guess. I've been working, and I like driving around the city."

"Don't try to pull the wool over these old eyes young man," Edward said with a chuckle. "I'm betting you're spending time with that cute little girlfriend you told me about- what was her name again? Something nice and old fashioned wasn't it?"

Dillon ducked his head and blushed. "LuLu... LuLu Spencer," he murmured. "I, uh... I may have exaggerated a bit. She's not my girlfriend. I don't even think she likes me very much."

"Nonsense!" Edward sounded offended. "You are handsome, intelligent, and you're a Quartermaine! Any young woman would be fortunate to have your attention."

Dillon sighed. "I doubt that she sees it that way. Besides, Grandfather, at the Shop 'n Save they don't know that I'm a Quartermaine, remember?"

Edward nodded, but his smile faltered and concern crept in at the edges. His eyes fell on the clipboard full of copy paper. "Mercy! Is your mother still asking you to do that wretched work for her?"

Dillon glanced down at the clipboard and shrugged. "Yeah, she is." He shifted uncomfortably. "But I don't want to do it anymore. It's dirty and underhanded. The people there trust me to do a job, and I turn around and betray them. It isn't right!"

Edward made a "tsking" sound and shook his head regretfully. "It so seldom is when competition is involved. Your mother is obsessed with making Quartermania the next big national chain. All fine and well, but you don't have to be involved in this nonsense! You should be focused solely on your upcoming studies; your future!"

"This is about his future," a hard-edged female voice interrupted as Tracy Quartermaine swept into the room.

Dillon turned and favored her with a reluctant smile. "Hello mother."

Tracy Quartermaine was thin and elegant and held herself with poise and grace, while somehow simultaneously projecting the same menacing potential as a sledgehammer. She wore only the best clothes, but in an understated style. She was spare, angular, sharp and efficient- like an ice pick in designer office attire. And like an ice pick, she was all business.

Tracy acknowledged her son with an imperious raise of her chin. "Dillon." She eyed the clipboard stacked with papers in Dillon's grip. "I trust that contains copies of all of the relevant upcoming sales and price changes for that neighborhood eyesore of Sonny's?"

Dillon nodded sadly. "When have I ever done anything other than what you tell me to, mother? It's all here."

"You've been doing a fine job," Tracy said with a predatory smile. "Thanks to your efforts, Quartermania will continue to undercut the Shop 'n' Save's every effort to lure back customers. We'll steal Sonny's thunder, and that imbecile will have no idea what's happening!"

Edward shifted in his chair and shuffled his paper indignantly. "For crying out loud Tracy! It's dirty pool! The boy doesn't want any part of it!"

The scornful arch of Tracy's brow almost inched it's way to her hairline. "As I recall, neither did I at his age. That never stopped you from forcing me to learn the game. Your little attack of conscience reeks of a forgery and is several decades too late, daddy." She stepped over next to Dillon and placed her hands on her hips. She fixed Edward with an icy glare. "Now if you absolutely insist on being of no use whatsoever to me in this matter, you can excuse yourself and allow me and my son a few minutes of privacy." The glare became withering. "_Please!_" she added when Edward showed no signs of moving.

With an exasperated huff, Edward folded his paper and levered himself from his chair. On his way out of the room, Edward patted Dillon on the shoulder. "You have access to your trust fund. You can be your own man. Your mother's machinations aren't your responsibility. Don't be afraid to do what you feel is right!" With a disapproving sidelong glance at his daughter, Edward left the room.

Tracy rolled her eyes and then turned her full attention to her son and reluctant co-conspirator.

"Dillon, please tell me that you aren't so naive as to buy any of the nonsense emanating from that old reptile!"

Dillon shrugged and wouldn't meet his mother's gaze. "He understands where I'm coming from. Stealing confidential business information from my employer can't be legal, and it's certainly unethical." His tone turned pleading. "Mother, this isn't _right_!"

"The only 'right' that we bother with in this house is what is right for this family!" Tracy fumed. "If you only ever listen to one thing I tell you, then listen to this- everything that happens here, every plan, every stratagem that the Quartermaines employ is engineered or approved by your _dear _old grandfather. He's lying to you. He wants you to believe that he's on your side, and he leaves me to be the heavy. He knows that I'll convince you to do what needs to be done regardless!"

Dillon covered the clipboard with both hands protectively. "But why? Why would he do that?"

Tracy shook her head, and a wry, thin-lipped grin tugged at one corner of her mouth. "You see, this is why I want you involved. You have so much to learn! He did it Dillon, because at the end of the day he wants you to love _him_ more than you love _me_."

Dillon recoiled from the idea. He turned away from Tracy and began to pace around the living room. His expression was troubled as he tried to process things that he had no real desire to understand. "That's sick. Love isn't a game. I love you both; you're my family. That isn't something to exploit!"

Tracy sighed. Some of the hardness in her posture yielded as she watched her son with growing concern. "Edward knows that soldiers will always fight harder for a general that they love. In this family we are constantly battling something or someone, because the only thing harder than establishing the kind of power that we enjoy is holding on to it without being destroyed. Everyone is a potential enemy!"

Dillon spun and looked at her with anguish. "Not family."

Tracy began to raise her arms toward him but then brought her clenched hands back to her sides. "Especially family. For us it is survival. It's second nature. It's Quartermaine."

Dillon shook his head in denial. "It's seriously screwed up."

Without realizing it, Tracy leaned toward her son, but she wouldn't cross the space that separated them. "Dillon you are in _our_ world, like it or not, and it's part of my job to make sure that you are equipped to survive and even thrive in it. If you are soft and sentimental, eventually men like your grandfather will eat you alive."

"Jason and A.J. got out," Dillon challenged, referring to his two male cousins.

"They are casualties," Tracy said with a tinge of sadness. "They didn't make the cut and were chewed up and spat out. Jason is a pathetic cripple, and A.J. is a shadow of what he once was- just an echo of what he could have been. I want better for you. I need you to start thinking like a Quartermaine. That's why I included you in this project. I thought we could achieve this small victory together."

Dillon clutched the clipboard closer to his chest. "What's the point? We have more money than god. What victory is there in destroying one local business?"

"We've been through this before. Sonny's Shop 'n Save is one tiny puzzle piece, but it's a piece that is in the way." Tracy's tone was urgent and lecturing at the same time. She was beginning to feel annoyed, like a teacher confronted with a particularly dense pupil. "You've seen the neighborhood, Dillon. It's best days are behind it. Once we own everything, we can rebuild it into a better place. We'll control the leasing, the development rights, all of the major properties. With a wise hand to guide it, the area can grow into a bright new future. But in order to force this rebirth, to realize this greater good, we need control!"

"Why not leave the people alone to realize their own future?" Dillon asked desperately.

"Who, idiots like Sonny Corinthos?" Tracy asked with disdain. "What kind of name is Corinthos anyway? Everyone knows his father's name was Corbin! Sonny and his ilk have no future. The Shop 'n Save is going down. You aren't destroying it with this minor espionage, you're just helping to bring the end a little more quickly and mercifully."

Dillon swayed back on his heels, still clutching the clipboard and its contents close to his heart. His eyes were downcast, and his voice sounded weary now. "Mother, I think I have made friends there. Maybe I'm weak and a terrible disappointment, but all I really want is to have some real friends. How can I do this and look them in the eye?"

Tracy gritted her teeth, her eyes were two lifeless stones set in her angular countenance. "Friends like that _girl_ you mentioned? Dillon, you're going to learn that these people come and go. They might believe that they are your friends at this moment, but all they can see is what's right in front of them at this second. Their loyalties turn on the slightest whim. They have no vision. You must have an agenda with a much wider scope." Her rough-edged voice was hard- ruthless. "They are really quite small, powerless things. None of them can really effect anything that is going to happen. Use them for whatever you want, but don't forget that they are for all intents and purposes... disposable. In ten years they will probably all be working for corporations that _you_ own, and they'll be better off for it."

Dillon took a step toward Tracy and stopped. His young features were lined with anxiety; his shoulders slumped.

"Son," Tracy continued, and her voice filled with pride," the one thing the sheep in this world are sure to respect is a winner, and you are going to be a winner your whole life. You'll have your pick of the companionship of beautiful women, and so many people will vie for your friendship that they will sicken you." Tracy sighed and the hard line of her shoulders sagged. Suddenly she looked older, vulnerable and weary. "It's your choice, but I want to know... need to know that I can rely on you. The hardest truth in the world is that _no_ love is unconditional."

Tracy held out her empty hands. Dillon looked at his mother and felt his heart swell even as he choked back sadness. "_That isn't true,"_ he thought.

"Who needs friendship when you can have greed, envy and fear?" he asked bitterly. He crossed the space between them and delivered the clipboard into Tracy's waiting embrace.


End file.
